


The Man on the Sea

by Rachel_Lu



Category: Doctor Who, Doctor Who & Related Fandoms, Doctor Who (1963), Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Historical, Alternate Universe - Pirate, F/M, Falling In Love, Historical, Hostage Situations, Imprisonment, Pirates
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-18
Updated: 2016-05-18
Packaged: 2018-06-03 02:03:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 21
Words: 49,595
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6592231
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rachel_Lu/pseuds/Rachel_Lu
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Rose Tyler is a highstanding woman who finds her life turned upside down when notorious pirate John Smith holds her for ransom on his ship.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Rose is a bit like Elizabeth Swan in this, very curious about pirates, but she harbors a fear as well. However, the Doctor is the Doctor and will certainly not be anything like our favorite guy-liner wearing Captain.
> 
> Set in the 1770s

"Step to, Rose, we've got somewhere to be!" Jackie Tyler's voice echoed across mahogany walls, sending the sound straight into Rose's quarters, where she was being wrestled into a tight fitting corset.  

It was tedious, to be sure, the laces drawing tight across her back, restricting every part of her torso.  She breathed out harshly, ensuring, unlike most other girls, that she could still breathe when it was fastened.  Her servants knew she did this, but they also knew her mother would disapprove.  They never uttered a word about it.  

The strings were tugged once more, with a finality that gave her an inkling that her time bracing herself against the bed would be over presently.  Her servant tied the strings and went to fetch her over dress.  It was very fitting for spring, a light blue frock with a low, square neckline and extravagant, ruffled sleeves.  Entirely, the whole gown was beautiful, fitting for a high standing woman of the 1770s.  She was making her way in the world, surely, and this dress could ensure exactly that.  

Her servant pinned her blonde locks into a prim style, leaving only two curled tendrils on either side, framing her heart-shaped face.  With one look into the nearest mirror as the buttons were finished up, she slipped her feet into the blue slippers accompanying the gown and hurried off after her mother.  She knew from the experience of twenty years that it did not do one well to keep Mrs. Tyler waiting.

When she descended the stairs, she saw that her father was pacing the entryway, her mother worrying a handkerchief between her hands as she watched him do so.  Rose hurried down the rest of the flight, not approaching her father, but standing opposite her mother.  "What is it, mother?" She asked, recognizing the anxious state of her father when she saw it. 

"Pirates," Jackie said dramatically, and Rose felt her heartbeat quicken.  It had been at least two years since the pirates had attacked.  They were unlike any other, the ones who struck England, with their massive ship and always needing to take.  Of course, they killed, as pirates did, but it seemed to be so minimal and few and far between that it almost was not noteworthy at all.  Rose, however, took note. 

"John Smith's crew, I presume?" Rose asked airily.  Of course, the name of such a man did not belong on the tongue of a woman of such high standard.  Her father, Peter Tyler, nodded, a grim and dark look passing over his face. 

"They have taken many goods, to trade, we suspect." He said, "Though, many will say that they killed the goats that they stole."

Rose found her brows drawing together in confusion and worry.  "They are stealing animals now, are they?"

"Better than people," Jackie spoke up.

"Father, why trouble yourself?  We are at no risk, our locks are strong, and they have not taken captives."

"They will return," Peter threw a key on the entryway table, a sizable key with a red ribbon tied around it.  Rose approached it slowly, curiosity her only guide, and took it in her hand. The cold of the copper seemed to burn her skin, the skull carved into the head of the key sending untold shivers down her spine.

"Where was this found?" Rose asked, running her thumb along the item in question.

"On our front doorstep," Peter replied.  "We must assume that this means John and his crew wishes to follow us, perhaps to steal our servants!"

Jackie's head snapped up at the sound of a carriage on the road outside.  "We've no time for that now, husband, our carriage is here."

With both of her parents' attention elsewhere, Rose slipped the key into the bosom of her dress.  If she found what it unlocked, she thought, why, what sort of treasure would it hold?  Surely enough to catch John's crew and imprison them forever.  

"Rose, what are you standing there for?  Come, daughter!" 

Rose followed her mother's call and was herded into the carriage, left to stare out the window on their trip and wonder what, exactly, she was to do with any of the information she had just been given.

They were off to a ceremony of a man who was becoming the city's newest Judge, his powdered wig now ranked among the highest.  Rose knew him little, but he was of high regard and knew the Tylers, as they were of much importance.  His son, a man called Harold Saxon, was mopey and seemed a bit insane at times, but Rose's mother told her that he was a good man with a good standing and she would do well to make his acquaintance.  Rose was hard pressed to agree. 

The ceremony, being as it was, was treacherous at the least, boring and bland.  Rose found herself drifting off during several quieter moments, only snapping awake when her fan slid from her grasp.  Fortunately, any dreaming she did lessened the time of her suffering substantially and by the reception, she felt she could bear the rest of the night. 

There was dancing as the sun set, in a ballroom filled with only the most noble people in London.  She danced with strangers, as she was expected to, admiring the men and chatting with the women.  Of course they were all in search of a husband, but that didn't mean that they didn't have to be picky about what they wished to acquire in a man.  Rose knew this better than any other.  

"May I have the honor of this dance, Lady Tyler?" A voice asked, smooth yet abrupt, pulling her from her thoughts of marriage with the odd thought about the key resting in her bodice.  She looked up into the face of Harold Saxon.  He was grinning, much too widely, but there were many around and his father was a judge now and-well.  

She forced a tight smile and curtsied as he bowed.  "I would be honored," she said, her voice reigned in and careful.  She allowed him to take her hand and lead her in a waltz that kept plenty of distance between them.

"I must confess my motives exceed just holding you in my arms for a few fleeting moments," Harold said abruptly, and Rose gave him a disapproving look. 

"Of course, you are not suggesting I ruin my virtue with you tonight?" She asked coldly, knowing already what the answer would be.

A look of horror passed over his face.  "No, my lady, of course not."  He shook his head.  "I am here as a simple man, simply asking you to marry him."

Rose felt her mouth open and close, surprised at his forward words and the confidence with which he said them.  "We have not properly courted!" Appeared to be the only coherent sentence she could manage after such a shock.

"Are you meaning to tell me that you do not wish to marry?" He asked, brows drawn together. 

"Of course I wish to marry, to a man I have spoken to more than thrice in a month!" She replied, "You are a kind man, Mr. Saxon, of course, but I am not persuaded at this time."

"Perhaps the lady could be persuaded?"

She knew what her mother would have her say, her father as well.  She knew what her friends, standing at the edge of the ballroom or dancing with other young men, would have her say.  She also knew what she wanted.  That did not matter, of course, was hardly of any relevance at all.  So she nodded numbly. 

"I would be honored to make your acquaintance a bit better over time," she said, "But I will not accept a proposal so rushed and... Timely," she said, chancing a glance over at his father, who was chatting amiably with her parents.

Harold nodded.  "I expect nothing less, though I hoped for more."

The music that they had been dancing to halted and Harold kissed her hand and thanked her before leaving her.  She fought against the urge to do something rude to him and instead made her way out to a balcony on the far side of the ballroom.  

It led down into some gardens, but she simply wanted to stand, to exist without interference.  Sighing, she leaned against the rail, the key growing cold again at its exposure to the cool, night spring air. 

She closed her eyes, allowing the breeze to rush over her, to touch her and cast shadows along the road.  It was freeing, in a way, to be alone, giving her what she craved in solitude.  She straightened, knowing it wouldn't do any good for someone to see her all hunched over in a good gown.  She paced along the balcony, never venturing into the gardens or back inside, where the little light she had was filtering out.  She would go in presently, but it felt to her as though she must stay outside for a moment longer.

Her wanderings were stopped sooner than she thought they would have been by a rushing next to her.  She turned harshly and ran straight into the very pirate she'd felt a rush of cold for this morning.  Captain John Smith stood before her, tall and imposing, his dark hair everywhere, as he couldn't be bothered to do anything but comb it.  He had on a black peasant shirt that was unbuttoned low, which made her blush of fear turn into a blush of something else, more akin to embarrassment.  His breeches and boots were of the same color and she knew immediately that he was a man of stealth.  Around his neck was a red pendant matching the ribbon on the key she held.  She opened her mouth to cry out for some sort of help when he took a step forward and spoke first.

"Lady Tyler, do not make a sound," he said softly, and she noticed for the first moment that he was holding a knife in his hand, the steel glittering in the moonlight along with his many rings. 

She gasped and within an instant his arm was around her waist, holding her to him, the other maneuver to press the blade to her neck.  She could feel her chest heaving and wanted to fight him, push him, but knew that a man like this would not be easily persuaded.

"I do not wish to hurt you," He said softly, "But if it is what it comes to, than so be it.  You will come with me.  Yes?"

Knowing it wasn't really a question, Rose nodded a bit.

"Good girl," he smiled at her, a smile even less wicked than Mr. Saxon's, and glanced downwards.  "You have my key," he said, surprised.  "Given your mother's obsession with fine things, I would've rather thought that she would take it.  I'm glad it was you."

"What do you want?" She whispered.

"A hostage," he replied blandly, "Which is exactly what I am receiving."

Knowing that she was well and truly defeated, she dropped her gaze from his dark brown eyes, unable to meet them for a second longer. 

"No," he said sharply, forcing her chin up with his blade.  "You will not lower your eyes.  You are my equal, regardless of our little situation here.  Is that understood?"

The moment she nodded he had released her and was binding her hands in shackled in front of her.  He took hold of it by the center chain and led her down into the garden.  She stumbled after him, trying with much effort to keep up with his long stride. 

"If you scream, or make a sound at all, I will kill you here," he said, "However, you seem rather agreeable.  I suppose you should be happy it was I who found you and not a man with more nefarious intent.  That would be foolish of you indeed, Lady Tyler.  Are you foolish?"

She sensed the trick and did not answer either way, instead lengthening her stride to catch up with him.  He chuckled, the sound dark as the night that surrounded them as he led her through the back of the garden.  "No," he said, "I suppose you are not foolish.  We are nearly there."

Rose followed along, fear clutching at her breast.  Her heart pounded wildly, making her head rush.  John Smith pulled at her shackles, forcing her along.  He made her walk all the way to the docks, where the most massive ship she had ever laid her eyes on.  Men were lining all sides of it, and they cheered as their captain approached.  

John smiled winningly at them and gestured grandly to Rose, showing her off.  Her mouth fell open in shock at the size of it.  

"What do you think of it?" He whispered, close to her ear.

She was not certain if she was allowed to speak, if he would kill her if a word fell past her lips.  So she refused to look at him, only stared past him at the ship and the vulgar men atop it. 

"I said," he said patiently, lowly.  The blade of his knife touched her cheek and tilted her face to face him.  "What do you think of my ship?"

She swallowed, hard, smelling his breath, suspiciously sweet for a pirate, and struggled to meet his dark gaze.  "It is the biggest ship I have ever seen," she said with complete honesty, her voice much stronger and certain than she expected it to be.  She offered herself some pride at that.  

A slow smile crawled across his face, and her heart fluttered against her will.  She tilted her chin up in defiance, not letting this man, this _pirate,_ get the best of her.  

"Welcome to the good ship Tardis, my lady," John said, so close to her that the men on the boat were whistling and calling out expletives at them.  At the sound of it, his eyes darkened in anger and he turned to the ship.  "That is not what she is for!  You will not say words like that to her, about her, or in her presence!  Is that understood, men?"

Those on the ship sobered immediately and all called out a 'yes, Captain,' before disappearing from the edge of the ship, now properly embarrassed. 

"Well then," John sniffed and straightened his shoulders before tugging on her shackles again.  "All aboard."


	2. Chapter 2

John's hand pulled harshly on her shackles towards the ship, his grip unwavering. He looked over his shoulder at her, deep eyes gleaming in the moonlight. It occurred to Rose that she was afraid of this man, and instinct dictated that she should cower, or at the very least use her womanly wiles to her advantage.

She did neither, instead meeting his steely gaze with her own, proud as any queen. He allowed it, why she was not sure, even with his talk of being her equal. When his eyes left hers, their pace quickened, the sound of their covered feet the only one to greet any surrounding ears.

At last, they boarded, though Rose only experienced the urge to flee. This was not where she belonged, her duties did not lie as a hostage.  Her teeth sunk into her bottom lip as she pulled against the restraint of the shackles. John moved with the speed of a panther, his hand not on the shackles grasping her arm firmly.

"Your efforts at escape are valiant," he said, an air of irony in his voice, "But, my lady, we set sail tonight."

Rose felt all the color leave her face as her heart pounded violently against her breast.  "Take your hands off me," she said, her voice wavering slightly. 

To the pirate's credit, he released her immediately, only keeping a hand on her shackles.  Averting his gaze from hers, he quickened his pace.  "You will stay in a room that is adjacent to mine," he said, his voice cold as ice.  

"You do, of course mean that I will be staying in a dungeon adjacent to your quarters," she said, her voice blatantly correcting him.  He did not turn to address her this time, instead gave a hard pull to her shackles, making her stumble, almost into his back.  

His ship almost appeared to be bigger on the inside.  Calling it massive would be an understatement, as the ceiling of the ship seemed high and the room positively lavish.  John led her to the Captain's quarters and opened the door, bowing dramatically.  "Lady Tyler," he drawled.

She felt anger surge through her at his tone, but he was allowing her to enter the room by herself, and she was not about to take such a simple thing for granted. 

In the middle of the room stood a table, covered in a map of the oceans with model ships covering it, charting exact and approximate locations.  Rose clenched her jaw and stared at the bed that sat before a bay window, impressive and immaculate.  It was about as large as hers at home, surprising in the ship.  

Additionally, the room held a sizable wardrobe and a rack of swords and other weapons, some looking painfully close to torture devices.  Upon noticing these, she took a step backwards, her back falling against his chest.  He laughed and stepped away from her, shutting his door.  

"The key, Lady Tyler?" he said patiently, holding his hand out as she turned to face him. 

"What for?" She asked in reply.

He, in response, turned to look to the side of the room she had not looked at.  It appeared, as she looked, that she was correct about the dungeon attached to his room.  Metal bars lined the entire wall, revealing a plain cell with a mat in the corner. 

She swallowed, realizing exactly why she had a key.  She had brought along the item to ensure her own capture.  She turned to him and lifted her chin.  "No," she said simply. 

His eyebrow lifted in skeptisism, as though surprsied that she would dare to refuse him at all, let alone in such a straightforward manner.  He advanced on her, standing over her.  "The key." he said, his voice low and growling. 

"If I do not wish to give it, than I shan't," her voice was steady again, and she saw his eyes darken in anger. 

"You will not be leaving, and you will merely stay in the cell as a precaution at night.  Despite your femininity, I have it in good faith that your ladyship would stab me in the middle of the night."

In truth the thought had not occurred to her to kill him. Raised as a young lady of someone who was very sigh in society, violence was unheard of.  John glanced down at her wrists, rubbed a touch raw by the shackles.  

His gaze softened then, and he took a step forward to lift her hands.  "I did not mean to hurt you." he promised, "it is not my intention to injure you.  I am sure you have heard the stories of me?" 

"Yes," she said tightly.  

"Then you know that I do my best no to kill."

"You are an anomaly and  I am struggling to believe that you have ever been a true pirate," Rose said, feeling more daring. 

The anger that had left his face quickly returned and he dropped her hands, holding his palm out instead.  "The key, now," he said, his voice leaving no room for argument. 

"No."

"I know where it is," he threatened.  "I will take it.  You will get it for me now or I will retrieve it myself."

"I simply will not-"

Quick as anything, his hand shot down the bodice of her dress and pulled the key out.  Rose was left sputtering and lifting her hands to her chest.  He did not look sorry, but he did not meet her gaze as he stroked the red ribbon on the key.

"My apologies, Lady Tyler." He said, "But I think you'll recall, I did warn you."

Roughly, he pushed her into the cell and slammed the door, locking her in.  She stumbled to the floor and panted, struggling against her corset.  She moved to her feet and gripped the bars of her cell.  "You are a vile man," she hissed.  

He stepped forwards and got very close to her face.  "I think you already know that I am not," he said lowly.  "You will have your privacy, and the letter for your ransom will be sent out tomorrow."  A cruel smile lit his face, but it almost looked artificial.  "Goodnight, my love."

His voice dripped with irony and she clenched her jaw in return.  She had not seen the curtain on the far end of her cell before, but it was there and he pulled it violently across, shrouding her almost entirely in darkness, save for a barred window on the opposite wall of the cell. 

She cried out and slammed her hand against the bars.  "You are a man no woman will love!" She cried out, feeling rage pour through her.  "You live on wenches and rum and you will never know happiness!" 

"I have never had a wench," he replied calmly, "And thank you, Lady Tyler, but I already know that I will never know love or happiness."

"I will not feel pity for you!" 

She could hear him moving around weapons and swallowed hard.  He was certainly taking away what he said about not hurting her.  "Lady Tyler," he said slowly, "It is I who pity you.  You will marry Harold Saxon, bear his horrid children, and die of old age in that wretched man's bed.  You will never know adventure, and for that reason I am so very sorry for you."

Her pores ran cold and she had to seat herself, with the shock of what he'd said.  "How long were you watching me?"

"He proposed," John said, as if she hadn't spoken.  "You know, Lady Tyler, if is you who should be thanking me."

"Not that it is any of your concern," Rose began haughtily, "but I was not planning on accepting Mr. Saxon's offer."

He hummed and she could hear him changing, into bedclothes, surely.  She blushed hotly at the notion.  "Have you really been in the room with so many women that disrobing in the same room as one does nothing to affect you?"

"You cannot lay an eye on me," he said, "Unless you would like to."

She decided it was probably best if she ceased speaking to him, instead moving to the mat on the ground and laying on top of it.    
Surely you will let me change?  Into something you've stolen, or course, but never the less, something," she asked him, her voice now tired and small. 

"You will wear men's clothes aboard the ship, Lady Tyler.  It is less than safe for you to wear a corset and many layers here."

"Are you proposing that I wear breeches?" She asked incredulously, her voice reaching a rather high pitch.  

"I am suggesting that you dress appropriately for your situation.  I will leave bring you something in the morning, never you fear."

Feeling defeated in any sense of the word, she curled up on the mat and fought to find comfort among the hardness of it and the tightness of her corset.  Her fear seemed to put her to sleep in a way, and she fell into a deep sleep. 

She awakened the the world was so dark that she could not see anything outside of her small window.  What had brought her to consciousness was sound of someone, presumably John, crying out in pain.  She scrambled to the bars and lifted the curtain from the bottom up to peer under it, which she just barely managed.  She could see John thrashing about, over the sheets, covered in a fine sheen of sweat.  His brow was twisted and she bit her lip, knowing that a proper lady would not watch him struggle.

He was having a nightmare, that much was obvious, but she was unsure of what to do.  She could see tears streaking down his face and she lowered the curtain again, knowing that there was not a thing that she could do.  

However, it was hard to fall back asleep when she could hear him, and even though she felt a deep hatred for the man, she did not want to see him suffer.  To stop his pain and her own frustration, she let out a high pitch scream, hoping to awaken him.  He screamed in return and she could hear him sit up.  

Not five moments later there was a violent pounding at his door and Rose fumbled her way back to the mat, just in case someone wanted to have a look at her.  She could feign sleep if need be. 

"Yes?" John called out, sounded breathless and impatient, "What is it?" 

"I heard someone cry out, sir, and then you shouted.  I thought maybe something had happened," another man's voice echoed into the room, muffled by the wood. 

"I'm fine, Jack," John said harshly.  

"You said you heard someone else cry out?" John asked, puzzled, sheets rustling, 

"Yes, sir."

"Lady Tyler."

"Captain Smith, you devil," the man, presumably Jack, said smugly, innuendo laced in his deep voice.  "I never thought you'd be into that sort, or that she would, for that matter.  But I suppose, as lovely as anyone is, they all have their-"

"Jack," John's voice was clearly a warning.  "Goodnight."

"Goodnight sir."

The footsteps retreated and Rose heard John stand up and approach the cell.  "You cried out."

"You were having a nightmare," she replied quietly, "I wasn't sure how else to wake you."

"I do not have nightmares," he replied, and walked back over to his bed, laying down.  

She sighed and managed to fall back asleep an hour or so later.  He was a dangerous man, that she understood, but what she didn't understand was why a bad man had even worse dreams. 

The next morning she was awakened by John pulling the curtain over her cell back, holding a pile of clothes.

"You will follow my instructions."

She sat up, staring up at him from her seat on the mat she had spent a restless night on.  "What are your instructions?"

"Here are your clothes.  You will wear them, and I will unlock your shackles as you change.  When you are finished you will tell me that you have, and I will return the shackles."

Grumbling, Rose got to her feet.  "I agree to your terms," she said, "It is not as though I have much choice."

Nodding, he reached through the bars to unlock her shackles and take them back through.  He pushed the clothes at her, but she averted her gaze form him and blushed. 

"I'm afraid these are very hard garments to get out of," she said softly. 

"Oh."

"Yes."

"Are you saying you require my assistance?"

"There are no women on board?"

"No."

"Then yes.  You will stay outside."

"I will," John agreed.  "Turn your back to me."  

As she did so, he put her clothes on the floor next to her cell and as she turned away, he began unlacing her dress, his fingers sure and disinterested, never once brushing her skin.  Once he'd ripped open her corset, he stepped away and drew the corset.  

"Go on, then," he said. 

Rose reached through the bars to pick up the clothes and boots that he'd left for her.  Upon undressing and pulling out the other clothes, she saw he had left her a deep brown shirt quite like his own and a tight brown vest that would lace up the front.  Small men's breeches and black boots completed what he had left her. 

She changed carefully, folding her proper clothes and leaving them in the corner of the cell.  Acknowledging that her hair was most likely in disrepair, she removed the pins that kept it secure, letting it tumble loose around her shoulders.  She felt nearly naked, despite the clothes she was most certainly wearing.  She'd never worn any sort of trousers or breeches and was feeling incredibly exposed. 

"I have finished," she said, standing tall in front of the bars. 

John pulled back the curtain again, and without any words, fastened the shackles back onto her and opened the cell door with her key.  "Now, then, Lady Tyler, follow me," he said.  

She shrank back and he gave her an incredulous look. 

"Your appearance is quite satisfactory, and the men will not touch you, nor look at you.  They are under my orders not to do so," he promised.  "You are safe here.  Your mother's letter will be delivered and we will set off for the sea."

Sensing she had no other choice, Rose let John lead her out of the room.


	3. Chapter 3

The men on board John's ship were incredibly crass, vocal men who had already begun their drink for the day by the time Rose had been brought to the deck. She found herself pulling at her shackles, though she was not fully aware of it.

John fixed her with a deep stare. "You will only injure yourself further, Lady Tyler, and it is not on my agenda to cause you harm."

"Is it not?" Rose's voice dripped with irony, and the tension built between them, both wanting to shout at the other but deciding it may not be the best decision of a lady, or even a notorious pirate.

He said nothing, regardless of what was running rampant on the inside of his mind. He turned to his crew and drew his gun, firing a warning shot into the clear blue light of the day. Rose cowered at the sound.

To their credit, the men on board halted instantly, looking to their captain. One stepped forward, and when he spoke, she recognized him as the man who had come to check on herself and Captain John the night before. He seemed to be already quite drunk.

"Good morrow, Captain! I trust your night was eventful," he winked and Rose felt a flush crawl up her body at the insinuation the man, presumably Jack, was making.

"Quite the contrary, Jack," John said coldly, "The ransom letter is to be delivered to Jacqueline Tyler within an hour and we leave, men, is that understood?" The men nodded their agreement and John continued further, "As for Lady Tyler, if I hear that an incriminating hand has been laid upon her, you will be killed on the moment I see you. She will not leave my side for the majority of her stay here and so I doubt any of you will try anything."

The gaze he sent, which landed on Jack first and passed on to the rest of them, made it clear that they would follow his orders.

"Yes, sir!" They shouted as one member.

A pirate in the back, a thin man with dark hair and sad eyes raised his hand. John rolled his eyes and jutted out his chin, motioning to the man to speak.

"Are we permitted to speak to the lady? One would surely go mad speaking to only one person on a ship so large."

John seemed to ponder this, as though not certain as how to answer the man. Jack whooped loudly and held up his bottle of rum.

"Rory, mate, you've a lady in Scotland!"

Rory, the pirate who'd spoken, flushed crimson and avoided Jack's gaze. "I simply thought she could be in need of _friendly_  companionship."

"You may speak to the lady," John shouted over whatever Jack had been about to say. "Your words will be respectful, and none of us here will be taking the lady anywhere you are suggesting, Jack."

Jack toasted himself and perched on a barrel, taking a long swig of his drink.

"Yes, sir," Rory was the only one who responded to John's words, a meek look on his face.

"That is the one that takes wenches?" Rose asked haughtily into John's ear, "The innocent one?"

John's look was heavy. "He has not taken a wench. Rory has a fine woman in Scotland who is far better than him, but loves him." he looked to Jack. "Jack has taken wench, Queen, and farmgirl."

"Pig."

"You would do well to keep that particular sentiment to yourself. As we respect you, we expect you to respect us."

Rose set her jaw and moved to stand in front of John as the men went back to their work and drinking all around her. "It appears to me that respect does not constitute a kidnapping."

"On the contrary. We would not capture a woman who was not respected, or a woman who would not be missed."

"You disgust me."

"Evidently I do not, you were the one concerned about the nightmares I do not have," John said airily. "Now, I've a letter to finish. Can I trust you to follow me with no efforts of escape?"

"I suppose," Rose said, aware that even if she tried to make an escape, there were twenty men on the deck that could catch her before she reached the docks.

The pressure of John's hand left the shackles and he turned, walking back the way he came. She followed, relishing in the ability to be a pace or two behind him. This seemed to bother him none, he never once made sure that she stood behind him, only trusted, or assumed, that she was.

He was an arrogant man, she could see that now more than ever. His walk was a swagger, and if he'd had a gentleman's pockets, Rose was sure his hands would have been firmly plunged in them. He did not, however, and fiddled with the gun in his belt instead. He was surely dangerous. He could kill her, yet he said he wouldn't.

She hardly understood why she was so special. Surely there was another woman that would be more valuable than she, one with more wealth and land that would serve a better hostage to him. It appeared that did not bother him, that he had taken what he wanted, or rather, needed, and that would be the very end of it.

"You take hostages often, do you?" Rose asked, the sharp tone never once leaving her voice. "After all, men rarely keep dungeons in their bedrooms."

The smile he sent over his shoulder pushed an odd sensation of feeling through her. "Some do," he said, "Though you are but my second hostage. The first was a man from Eastern Ireland. Never shut up, him," he paused, as though in thought, "Have you been in many men's bedrooms to consider such a thing, Lady Tyler? Perhaps your title is not so honestly earned."

"How dare you!" Rose felt her face burn with anger and shame that she had no right to feel. "I entered no man's bedchambers, but I believe even the likes of you must be familiar with the likes of childhood acquaintances. I knew boys, who would grow up to be lords and knights, their chambers arranged for their lives, and not once did I see a dungeon. You are a sick man."

The second the words left her he spun around and gripped her by her upper arm. She made a noise of pure disgust and tried to pull away, but the hold of his fingers was like iron against her shirt and skin, his eyes storming.

He was very close now, his ragged, angered breathing touching her face, but only just. He was furious, that much was plain. "I may not be a knight, and I may not be a lord, but I am not sick or perverted. I do not take captives for my own pleasure. I did tell you that you were only the second. Do you think that that makes you special? That I must be drawn to you, as a man is drawn to a woman, to want you caged in my bedchamber? No, Lady Tyler, I fear that you are the most wrong that you have most likely ever been in your life of only rightdoings." He released her, not shoving or making any move to hurt her, but the attack on his ego was obvious and she realized she feared him.

"I do not want you to want me." She said bravely before he turned away.

"And for that, my Lady, I am glad."

"You say you never take wenches, but you must, to hate a proper woman so much."

"I do not hate you."

"You wish for me to desire you," She said, as though coming to a realization. "You wish for me to beg my way into your bed, trust you with my life, when I frustratingly do neither. I suspect you will figure something to do at the next port!"

He was silent for a moment, unsure of how to respond to such a personal attack. "I do not want _anyone_ to want me," he snarled, "I would not wish that on my worst enemy."

And with that he turned and stalked off down a corridor. She followed.

***

Upon walking through several corridors that forced Rose to consider how big this ship was, they reached a room next to his own that held a desk and several bookshelves.  It almost appeared to be bigger on the inside.  Still, she stayed close to John, unsure of herself and the surroundings around her.  

"You are a reader," Rose said.  It was not a question.

He only looked at her for a moment.  "Avidly," he said, "You act surprised."

"I am surprised."

"You think a pirate cannot read."

"Well, yes."

He smirked as he retrieved a paper, quill pen, and inkwell to place upon the desk.  "You assume I was born into piracy."

It was a notion she had never considered.  That perhaps he had a life outside of the sea, a family.  She blinked and found herself staring intently at him.  "You-"

"No more questions."

She snapped her mouth shut, and barely spared a thought to opening it again.  His tone was harsh and it was clear that his past was not one that he wished to discuss.  He seemed to be a man of the present, and based on how he was acting, she would do well to remember so.  

"Have a seat, my lady," John said, gesturing to a wooden chair that sat next to the desk.  She sat down primly and watched as his delicate but masculine hand picked up the quill and collected ink with it.  She watched him write in handwriting that was surprisingly beautiful.  

_Peter and Jacqueline Tyler,_

_Your beloved daughter, Rose Tyler of the Powell Manor, is safe, aboard the ship the Tardis.  We will keep her here until you are willing and able to pay the sum of four million pounds.  You will find_ _that I have connections in many different ports and your family will be able to send the money to any number of them.  We are on the open seas now.  You will not find us._

_John Smith + crew_

"Four million pounds!" Rose cried out, "My family cannot afford it!"

"Others in the city will surely give your relations money to send for you.  I am sure you are already missed."  He blew on the paper until the ink was try and sealed the envelope with a signet that held an odd tool with vines around it.  

"And what if they do not?" Rose arched an eyebrow at him, standing as he did.  "You will have to keep me with you."

"I'm sure once you have dropped your airs you will be a fine addition to the crew," he said dismissively.  

"No!" Rose clenched her fists.  "I do not wish to stay, and you certainly can not keep me here!  Don't you-"

"Do you know what a hostage is?" He snapped, "You are so naive, Lady Tyler, to think that I would send you back to your family.  You will stay."

Rose bit her tongue, threw back all the horrible words she wished to throw at him, to tell him that he was a fool and cruel.  He would just throw it back to her as he had her previous statements.  She felt tears well up and pushed them away, not wanting to cry in font of a man who was as he was. 

He was watching her, though since she had averted her gaze she did not see.  His hands twitched, as though wanting to comfort her, but his gaze steeled and he pushed her roughly towards the door.  

"We will be setting sail soon.  Follow." 

It was a command, and it seemed as though commands would be the norm around the _Tardis_.  They retreated to the deck again, where Rose stood as far away from John as she could get, repulsed by him entirely.  

"Rory!" John shouted, waving the letter.  "Come forth!"

The men on the ship ignored his call, expect Rory, who scurried forward, mouth slightly agape from exertion.  "Yes, sir."

John handed him the letter.   "Deliver this discreetly.  We cannot risk you getting caught.  We will wait for a half hour.   If you do not return by then, you must meet us at the next port.  Understood?"

"Yes sir."  He hesitated a moment, and looked to Rose, who was ignoring the situation before her, watching the other men instead.  "You would do well, sir," Rory said quietly, "To perhaps be kind to her... To... To be..."

"I will not become her lover, Rory.  You insist that I am lonely, that I would do well with a woman, but I have told you before I do not require one for my own happiness and if you do you are wildly incorrect."

Rory shook his head.  "I was not suggesting you become her _lover_ , sir."

"If you were not, Jack certainly was."

Rory shrugged, knowing that the only correct answer would be one of the affirmative.  He fiddled with the letter for a moment.  "I will return, sir," he said, giving a hasty nod before rushing from the ship.  John shook his head at the other man and turned to the men. 

"Come, men, to the hall for morning meal!"

The men whooped excitedly and nearly trampled Rose in their excitement to get downstairs.  John wove his way over to her and stood next to her as protection.  "You will sit with me," he said.

Rose was very close to hanging her head in defeat.  Any words that could be seen as friendly, he turned into a command.  She followed him down after the men had disappeared into the belly of the ship.


	4. Chapter 4

The hall was just as sizable as the rest of the ship, windows all around to look out over the sea.  A man who appeared to be the cook was hustling the men into seats, their rowdy behavior making Rose cower.  She was fearful of the sound and the words coming from their lips.  She stepped back, and John did not notice. 

The man who was the cook waved a letter at John.  "My Captain!  I was to return this to you on the night of yesterday, but was unable, of course."

"Of course," John extended his hand and took the letter.  He cracked the seal and opened the letter.  Upon scanning it with his eyes, he let out a burst of laughter.  Some of the men looked at him, expectant looks on their faces.  

"The pirates on the good ship _Skaro_ think they can attack us!" John said, voice full of humor.  "This is our warning.  We are to give up Lady Tyler or be attacked."

Rose felt herself pale, panic setting in as her heart pounded in her chest.  Another group of pirates would surely not fare as well as this one.  Certainly, they would not be so kind.   _Skaro_ sounded like a perfectly dreadful name all in itself.  

"How do they know we have her?" Jack stood and asked, clearly a man who could hold his liquor, as he seemed substantially less drunk.  "Her parents do not even know!"

John lifted a hand.  "It is possible that the woman was being watched by more than just Mr. Saxon."

Every man at the table burst into laughter, and Rose's paled expression turned to one of a deep blush.  She wished so much to run.  

"Well, they will just have to attack us, then," John was saying.  "Now, eat, men, for we set sail very soon." He turned to look at Rose over his shoulder.  He furrowed his brows, "What is wrong with you?" He asked, his tone cold, "Come forth, Lady Tyler."

"You will not give me up?"

"You are worth four million pounds.  That is surely more than the pirates of _Skaro_ will offer us."

Of course, she nodded, she was only worth the money.  Regardless of how he pretended to respect her, he did not.  Had they offered more money for her than he had requested, she would surely have been transferred to several filthy sets of hands.

John walked to the head of the table and gestured to his left, which was the seat deemed Rose's.  To his right was Jack, which led Rose to assume that he was the first mate on the _Tardis._ She seated herself primly, for if she could imagine well enough, she could imagine that she was in the skirts of her family's house, the clothing that made her feel most comfortable.  

The men's clothing made her feel naked, even with the tight vest over top that resembled the bodice of the dresses she typically wore.  She shifted uncomfortably, the rough fabric of the breeches foreign and discomforting.  The cook was laying out fine food, mostly meats, which made Rose's stomach roll unpleasantly.  Of course, she had never eaten such heavy red meat so early in the morning.  

"I do not believe I am hungry," she said softly.

In response, John threw a small loaf of bread on her plate.  "You will eat something."  

"I did not agree to the term of demanding I eat."  She forcefully met his glare, which was stormy and dark.  

"If you do not eat, you will die, and you are no use to me dead," he never blinked, never looked away from her.  "Eat."

She swallowed and averted her gaze.  She was unable to fight any longer, as the hour devours they had served at the reception the night before had been of little substance and she dropped any preamble of not feeling hunger. 

She picked at the bread, eating little pieces of the bread.  She was just resigning herself to the fact that she would eat the entire loaf when John threw a banana on her plate. 

"You cannot only eat bread."

"I can do as I please.  I am not a child for you to spoon feed."

"You must be, for you will not eat on your own."

To prove her point, Rose took a chunk of the bread and pushed it into her mouth, making certain to keep her eyes locked on John as she did so.  

His eyes were solemn and cold, any serenity that held his face suddenly gone.  "You are the fire and I am the storm," he told her quietly, "I will be burned, but you will drown."

Rose swallowed heavily, taken aback by the words.  "I think you will find, _Captain_ John, that I can swim quite well for a Lady."

He said nothing to her for the rest of the meal, instead speaking with his men, his enjoyment in doing so easy to see in him.  He was less dark speaking to them.  She wondered if he was simply trying to instill fear in her, to drive her so far away that she would not dare to question him again.  Rose set her jaw.  She was stronger than he believed.  

She was forced to admit, however, that the idea of the pirates of the ship _Skaro_ sent fear into her heart.  Though they did not come to the city the Tyler's resided in, they were more notorious than those of the _Tardis,_ killing not only when they had to, but when they wished to.

The Captain, a shriveled old man called Davros, was filled with bloodlust and cruelty, and Rose knew that she was better off with John's crew than with his.  Though she didn't feel safe, she at the very least was certain that she would not perish on board if any of the men could help it.  

Just before the time allotted had expired, Rory entered the dining hall, panting.  "They tried to follow, we need to _move."_

"Lady Tyler, with me please," John said coolly, standing and walking at a fast pace to reach the deck again.  He ascended the stairs to at a time to reach the bridge, where the wheel was set.  Rose did her very best to keep up, her shorter legs not aiding her in her efforts to reach him.  

He was moving the ship as she reached the top of the stairs.  Upon turning around she saw her mother, hysterical and crumpled on the docks, her skirts a pillow of sadness around her.  Rose took a step to go to her as John's ship moved with incredible speed.  John grasped the back of her shirt, his fingers fisting in her hair as well during the process, and she cried out. 

"She needs to know that I am safe!" She cried, fighting against his grip, regardless of the pain.  

"She can see you," John replied.  "And you are safe, are you not?"

Rose sagged, and John released her.  She sat heavily on the deck and hung her head.  Even if she ran, the jump to the docks was now too wide a gap for her to breach.  She felt the heaviness of her situation way on her, the saltiness of the sea touching her cheeks and lips and eyes in a phantom of the tears she had yet to shed.  

Deep inside herself, Rose was aware that even if her family managed to gather the four million pounds, it would not be for a very long time.  For the time being, she was very much trapped, out at sea, with a group of rowdy men as her only company.  

It was a miserable fate, she knew, and even as she tried to force it to not better her, the look on her mother's face haunted her, and she was certain would haunt her until her rescue. 

Swallowing hard, she decided to change the subject as John steered them away from the docks and out into the open sea.

"You do not fear _Skaro_ or Captain Davros?" She asked, barely above a whisper.

By some odd miracle, he heard her words.  "I do fear them.  But not enough to stay back and not fight them.  They will not take you, Lady Tyler, you are our hostage.  I do not perform exchanges of prisoners."

"Don't you?"

He was beyond dignifying her with answers, surely angered by her frequent questions.  He had the idea that perhaps he had been wrong in trying to pick a captive who would cower from him and stay away from him the whole time.  He was not anticipating to speak to her at all, much less deal with a woman who wanted to speak to him, and speak to him was such a lip.  She was infuriating, and John clenched his jaw and wrenched the wheel.  Rose, not anticipating such a move from him, tumbled to the side, barely catching herself on her shackled hands. 

They were set out on the open seas, then, the docks disappearing from their line of sight.  John stood tall, the wind forcing his shirt to billow, making it grip his skin.  Rose glared at him in loathing, unable to feel anything but anger towards him.  She pursed her lips and got slowly to her feet.  She was not used to the feeling of the earth rocking beneath her, and as a result she had trouble keeping herself up with her hands restricted. 

"You will find your sea legs presently, my lady," John said distractedly.  "Though it would be better for you if your hands were free."

She shook her hands, causing the chains to rattle.  "Then free them," she said, her tone full of exasperation.  

"I shan't," John said, "Not until you prove to me that you will not kill me."

"If I kill you, your men would kill me," Rose said reasonably.  

"Ah.  Then you should kill my men first?"

"I do not wish to kill anyone," Rose's voice held honesty, but she made certain that her voice did not sound soft or weak.  "You think that I am as ruthless as you, you put yourself in my mind, but you forget that I am a woman of high regard."

"And you forget the stories told of me," he replied, not looking at her as he steered the ship to the safety of the ocean waters.  "You forget that my primary need is not to kill.  I do not wish to take life, though you seem to be under the impression that I do so, and with great pleasure."

Rose found that she had nothing to say, though her spirit was not dampened.  She was angered and upset since seeing her mother, but under no circumstances did she want to kill him.  She forced herself to say something more.

"You suggest that you are a sympathetic pirate," She said, with no room for argument.  "I apologize, but I do not see any circumstances where those words would fit together."

"Aye," John replied absently, "I am a sympathetic man.  You are not in your stays or many layers."

She was forced to admit that he was correct.   A crueler man would have forced her to stay in all her clothing, keeping her forced down and unable to fight back. 

"Aye," she said, keeping her head lifted so that either way, there could be no seeing her as weak.  If there was one thing Rose Tyler was not, it was weak.  

Once John had figured that the ship was on a straight course, he turned to Rose.  "We will be on watch for _Skaro,_ " he told her, "They will no doubt be coming to find us."

"Do you believe that they will try to take me by force?" She asked, worrying her bottom lip between her teeth.  She did not want to appear afraid, but the prospect of the men of _Skaro,_ including Davros, scared her more than she cared to admit.

"They might."

"And you will let them take me," she said, nodding resolutely, taking it in stride.  Of course, she was a mere woman.  "You cannot fight them off, though they will not pay you the four million pounds you have requested."

John turned a stormy gaze on her and hauled her roughly to her feet.  "They will not be taking you," he said coldly, "And that is that.  If you think that I would turn you to such a man, regardless of whether I respect you or not, you are sadly mistaken."

Rose could not hold his gaze and looked away.  He was too close and she pushed him away from her.  "You cannot fight them," she repeated, "You do not know how to fight."

"If the circumstances are correct, I will fight," he said simply.  

He looked out over the sea, and his posture relaxed visibly.  It was clear that this was his home, that he loved the sea very much.  She watched him carefully, how the muscles in his face relaxed slightly and his eyes no longer looked so cold. 

He loved the sea, and Rose had a feeling that that was the only thing he would ever love, because it did not have to love him back.


	5. Chapter 5

The day passed on the waves, the city disappearing completely until the only thing Rose or any other living being on the ship could witness was the ocean.  It seemed to span on forever, and somewhere deep inside herself, Rose had the thought that perhaps she would never see anything again. 

She leaned against the railing, feeling a bit relieved that she was not laced into her stays.  John and a few of the other men were doing work on the deck, scrubbing the floors or polishing the rails.  Jack arrived next to where she was standing.  "Pardon me, my lady," he said politely.  She stood up straight to get out of his way so he could polish the rails.

"My apologies," she said softly.  

"No use, my lady," he replied.  He was quiet for a moment, but it soon became apparent that Jack struggled with keeping his mouth shut.  "Captain John really is a good man, Lady Tyler."

"A good man does not take a woman from the very environment she was born and bred in."  She replied, crossing her arms. 

"Perhaps a good man does exactly that," Jack offered, and Rose furrowed her brows in anger.

 "A good man does not keep a woman captured in his bedchambers against her will," her voice was cold as she spoke.  "He is not the man you think he is, I believe."

Jack smiled, "I have known Captain John for many years, my lady, and have served under him for years as well.  He is a good man, his handicaps are merely that he believes he does not deserve friendship are love.  There are many women that I thought would serve him well, but he has not taken to a one of them."

"I'm sure you took a _liking_ to at least one of them," Rose said, the innuendo falling from her lips surprising even herself.

A chuckle lifted itself from Jack's throat.  "Oh, you are very much mistaken.  I promise I would have discovered it myself if he had taken a liking.  There is not much that I cannot drag out of him."

Jack was finished polishing that section, that much was blatantly obvious, but the mere fact that Rose was talking to him and being kind enough to warrant a conversation was good enough for him.  She was a good woman, he could sense it.  He could also sense that John knew this as well and was hiding from her, not wanting her goodness to get to him at all.  

"Do you fear the men of _Skaro_ as well?" Rose asked softly, wringing her delicate fingers. 

"Everyone does," Jack said, taking his rag and looking at Rose directly.  "It is always a struggle to face them, they will not stop until they have killed at least one of our own."

"Your capture of me has put you all in danger," Rose said, "You are fools."

"Perhaps we are," Jack replied, his voice nonchalant.  "But, we are pirates, and we do know how to fight."

"You barely kill."

"That does not mean we do not know how to.  It simply means that we choose not to," Jack said defensively.  "If you'll excuse me, my lady," he was polite, which she was not expecting from a pirate.  There were men with eye patches, one with a wooden leg, and that fit the stereotype in a much cleaner fashion than John or Jack or Rory did. 

Now that the railing Rose had been leaning on was wet, she sighed to herself and looked around her.  Rory sat on a barrel, carving something with a knife.  It appeared that no one was bothered by the fact that he was not doing any work, though most of the others who were idle were arm wrestling or engaging in other more pirate-like activities.  Intrigued, Rose approached him. 

"Good morning," She said politely.  

He looked up at her and smiled a little.  "Hello, my lady.  I take it that Captain John has relinquished his iron grip on you."

Rose laced her fingers together, a feat not too difficult with the shackles confining her.  "Yes, well, your Captain has no claim on me besides that as a captor."

"That is very true, I suppose, my lady."

She was silent for a moment.  "What are you carving?" She asked him, leaning forward to get a better look at it.  

"Oh, my apologies, I did not show you," he held out the little carving, which was forming the very careful shape of a tiny owl.  

"That's lovely," Rose breathed out, finding a seat on the barrel next to his.  "Is it for your own lady?"

Rory squirmed slightly, a faint blush coloring his cheeks, and Rose grinned at the unspoken answer to her question.  Finally he did answer.  "Yes," he said, going back to his carving, his hands incredibly steady.  "She lives in Scotland, we visit her every time we make a stop at that port."

"She must miss you terribly," Rose said softly, realizing how very much she would miss her family while she was on the ship. 

Rory's mouth set into a thin line.  "I imagine she does, my lady, though not nearly as much as I miss her.  I would stay with her, but my loyalty to Captain John and the _Tardis_ proves to be too much."

"Nonsense," Rose said quickly.  "Captain John owns you no more than he does me.  You could stay with your lady.  What is her name?"

"Amelia Pond," his voice grew wistful as the name past his lips, as though he could imagine her there before him with little to no trouble at all.  It was very clear the extent of his feelings, the love and affection held for her in his heart.  "She is fiery, Lady Tyler, much like yourself.  A woman of lower caste, but still, she is..." His breath left him on a heavy sigh.  "She is a queen to me."

"And she deserves you at her side," Rose said insistently.  "Perhaps even a longer stay.  It hurts you to not be with her," she observed. 

He nodded.  "Of course it does, Lady Tyler, but I am not to settle down, at least not yet.  While I can still bring my Amelia jewels and coins and the things that please her, I am more precious to her than gold."  He stopped and furrowed his brows, as though he had just heard what had come from his own mouth.  "I know she loves me, " he said, "She would marry me in a moment if I asked."

"So ask," Rose whispered, "If you know."

Rory smiled at her. "You are an optimistic woman, Lady Tyler, one I did not anticipate when John told us you were the ploy of his capture."

"You have heard of me?"

"I heard you were an airy woman who bathed in gold," he laughed at the memory of hearing such words.  "It would appear that myself and the other men were mistaken."

Rose offered him a smile in return, used to such words used on her.  "It was surely John who started these rumors," she said.

"I know not who started them," Rory shrugged.  "But if it was the Captain I assure you he would take full credit for it."

"A man of his word, is he?"

"Aye, my lady, no matter what word it is." 

She sat quietly for a moment, watching him carve.  His hands were steady and behind each passing stroke of the knife she could see the love he felt for Amelia, and why he was crafting such a thing for her.   Even though he was to fetch her gold and other rich things from the cities they plundered, he was taking the time to bring her this.  Rose knew that she could only dream of a man doing something like that for her. 

As it stood now, when she returned home she would be given straight over to Mr. Saxon, who would certainly be noisy about the fact that he was betrothed to and then marrying such a woman of high regard.  Rose blew out a breath.  As much as it would mean to her family for her to marry someone such as he, she could not bring herself to do it.

In spite of it all, Rose found herself wanting to be married, eventually at least.  She wanted a man to watch over her, to be her lover and protector, to follow the vows that she knew many lords did not follow when it came to their ladies.  She was certain that any man she would marry would have to love her with his whole heart before she allowed a ring to be placed on her finger.  She curled her fingers into the fabric of her breeches at the thought.

"Amelia is lucky to have you," Rose said suddenly, "Though she most likely does not realize that, with you being so far away."  She gestured towards the owl in his hand.  "She will know when you give her that."

Rory seemed pleased with her words.  "I think you'll find, though, Lady Tyler, that she took pity on me, a pirate with a battered past.  I am uncertain as to why she chose me at all, but certainly she will stay.  I know that because she has said, time and time again, that she will wait until I return from the sea.  She will wait for me."

"Then cease her waiting," Rose laughed.  "I am a woman that will be loved by a man who is part way in the marriage for the money my family can provide.  She waits because she truly loves you and wants you at her side."

Rory blew out his cheeks, a thoughtful look passing over his features.  "I shall consider your words, Lady Tyler.  Surely you know more about love than anyone else on this ship."

"I certainly would like to think so," she said, as though appalled that any pirate could feel love.  One stony-eyed one crept into her mind at the thought.  Surely, he was practically useless to Rory when it came to conversations of this nature.  

Rory continued his carving, and Rose watched, the intricacies of his touch proving to her what it was like for a man to love a woman.  She had a strange feeling that he would wait forever for her and she would wait forever for him, if the time and cause called for it.  They would be a beautiful pair, of that Rose was certain. 

She stayed there, the wind grazing across her face, the ocean claiming her in scent and a faint sense of dampness.  She could only thank God that she was not prone to seasickness, but that could be held in part to the fact that the ship they were on was so big.  John had vanished, she had noticed, and she found herself angrily relieved.  It was a new emotion, an odd one, but one she had accepted. 

Of course, he had only pretended to respect her.   He'd left her chained up with men she didn't know, besides Rory and Jack, but nevertheless, she felt safe with them.  Their Captain had told them not to touch her and she had a feeling that they would do exactly as he bid without question.  She did not wish to imagine what the consequences of disobedience would be on the _Tardis._

"Tell me, my lady," Rory said, interrupting her thoughts, "What is your life in England like?"

Rose sighed.  "It is dull and uneventful, but better than this," she admitted.  "I am laced into stays and paraded to all available men in the city like so much cattle.  I have been proposed to but have yet to accept."

"Do you love him?"

"No."

"Ah, then, my lady, it is very clear what your answer must be when you return."

"I am afraid it is not so simple."  Rose replied.  "I am expected to marry within my social structure, a man who can fulfill wealth as well as a man of good deed.  The say I have in the matter is not large enough for me to give a resounding 'no thank you' to Mr. Harold Saxon."

Rory visibly cringed at the name.  "My lady, we have heard horrible things of him.  And we are _pirates._ Our level of horrible is not quite the same as yours."

Her head snapped to look at him.  "Does he have relations with Davros and those on _Skaro?"_

"Not that we are aware of," Rory said, "And if he did, they would certainly only be hunting you to return you to your family."

"Not to my family," Rose said, "To him."

Rory hummed in response.  "Aye, lady, it appears that a man like him does not wish to stop until he retrieves what he wants."

Rose caught a glimpse of John ascending from the bowels of the ship, looking around feverishly, and she nodded.  "It appear many men are like that."

Once he caught his sight of her, John stormed over to Rose and pulled her to her feet.  "Pray tell, lady, what exactly are you doing?"

She wrenched her arm from his grasp. "Having a civil conversation.  You should, perhaps, practice the art sometime."  She sat back upon her barrel and heard Rory muffle a laugh.

His eyes blazed.  "I assumed that you would follow me," he said, "It appears that I misinterpreted your obedience."

"I did not know I was to be as a dog to you, pattering about after you day in and day out," Rose shot back, "It appears that we are both mistaken on these matters."

"Aye," he said darkly.  "I trust that you will follow from now on?"

"You will not," Rose said, "I was having a fine conversation until you approached.  I find with your appearance the sky has darkened."

She glanced up at the sky, where clouds were beginning to form.  John swore under his breath.  

"There is to be a storm tonight, I can smell it in the air," he told her.  "When it breaks, and the heavens spit wrath, most likely upon you, you will follow me down.  Is that understood?" 

"The heavens, Captain John, will surely want to spit wrath upon one of us.  I know for a certain fact that it is not I."

"You insolent woman!  Do you wish to die this night?"

"Pirates have worked above deck in a storm."

"And you, dear _lady,_ are not a pirate.  If it would reassure you, Jack may retire with us, but I will not rist your death.  For once in your privileged life will you _please_ listen to an order given to you by a man above you?"

"You know nothing of privilege.  I have had troubles and you have had troubles.  That has nothing to do with privilege."

It occurred to Rose that Rory was staying firmly out of their argument, carving his owl as though there was not a battle of the wills going on before his very face.  John's jaw was set, however, and he was very much invested in breaking her stubborn will.

"Lady Tyler, kindly cease avoiding my order and answer me."

"I will follow you for my safely alone, not because you asked me to," she said sharply, never once breaking his gaze.

"When I call for you, you must come," John said, "I can sense the storm better than any man aboard this ship.  It will no doubt be this evening."

"But the clouds are gathering now."

"It will no doubt be this evening," he repeated through gritted teeth.  "Have I made myself quite clear, Lady Tyler?"

She got to her feet and stood very close to his face, doing her best to be as imposing a figure as possible.  Her nose brushed his as she hissed, "As glass, Captain John."

He did not move, and they stood deadlocked until Jack shouted for the Captain at the opposite end of the ship. 

"I have a feeling, Lady Tyler, that our rivalry is far from over," he told her, stepping back slightly.  His eyes were slightly glassy, less firm and unwavering than they had been before she had invaded his space.  

With that he turned on the heel of his boot and stalked away, leaving her to sit heavily on her barrel once again.

"If you like, my lady," Rory said lightly, bringing back the original cheerful mood with his sunny disposition. "I can teach you how to carve, even with the shackles binding you wrist."

She smiled at him and nodded enthusiastically, her anger at Captain John dissipating.  "I would like that very much.  Thank you."


	6. Chapter 6

Rory fetched her a knife and a piece of wood and put them both in her hands.  It was a slow process, teaching her what to do.  He had steady hands from carving, and hers were as well from hours of embroidery.  She had never had to deal with a material so hard, however, and she was slow in her exploration of the wood.  

"What do you wish to carve?" He asked as he whittled a feather out on his little bird. 

"I don't know," Rose said, biting her lip.

"Well, perhaps it would be best to start with something simple, your namesake, maybe?" He suggested.  

"I think so," Rose agreed, nodding.  It was easy to do after that, the carving only a little difficult with her fingers being as delicate as they were.  She was careful, watching Rory carve as well.  He was pouring his love for Amelia into his work, which warmed her heart fully.  Never before had she witnessed someone so in love.  She found herself wishing for Amelia, who certainly sent many lonely nights wishing he was with her, that Rory would leave the life of piracy.  

John was stalking around the ship, barking orders left and right.  He was irritable, that much was certain, but she could not tell why.  She frowned and watched as he fiddled with the sword he'd put at his side.  He was tense, his shoulders drawn, obvious even through his shirt.

"You've upset him," Rory said, as though he was reading her mind.  

"I have not done anything that was not warranted," she said airily.

Rory chuckled.  "He has not interacted with many women because he scares them away.  You do not fear him, and he has no response on how to handle that.  No doubt you will be a mystery to him for the majority of the time you are here."

She sniffed. "I have no tolerance with men so disrespectful to women."

He grinned at her.  "You would get along very well with my dear Amelia," he said. 

They both fell silent, the only sounds around them that of the ship rocking and John screaming.  He was quite the shouter, Rose mused, but he was also overly emotional and not very experienced in hiding it.  She regarded him with disgust until his gaze met hers and his eyes darkened in anger.  She met him with a resolute stare and his jaw clenched angrily.  

Rory sighed, "Best not to provoke him, my lady, especially with such a storm approaching."

"He compared himself to a storm earlier," Rose said incredulously.  

"He is one."  Rory's voice was solemn and sent a chill down Rose's spine.  Perhaps she was not as safe in Captain John's care as she originally thought.  She dropped her gaze back to the little Rose she was carving.  Rory had given her little helpful instances so she was really nearly done with it.  The little intricate petals were giving her the most trouble, the stem and such was already done, little leaves on the sides.  She was proud of it, though it was rough and obviously made by an inexperienced individual. 

She knew that it was only a matter of time before John approached her, and he did approach a few minutes later, when she was finishing up one particularly intricate petal.  He reached his hands out for what she was holding. 

Rose looked up into his face.  "I will give it to you when I'm finished, if you so desire," she said, her tone serious. 

He swallowed.  "I merely wanted to see what poor old Rory was wasting your time with."

"Much less of a waste than spending time with you," she shot back, setting the little rose in his hands.  John squatted before her, turning the little carving over in his hands. 

"It's lovely," he told her.  He looked at Rory.  "You have been teaching her this?"

"Aye, Captain," Rory said, barely raising his eyes from his owl.  "I hope it does not anger you that I did so."

"No, no it does not anger me," John ran his finger along one tiny petal and handed it back to Rose.  "She will need something to occupy her on her stay here.  I will not force her to work.  It is labor too hard for a woman so fragile."

Rose wanted to protest, but she knew that he was very right.  The lifting and scrubbing the men did was far too much for a woman like her.  She had little to no muscle and was far too gentle and fragile, as he'd said.  She made a quiet noise of protest and started her carving again.

Thunder rolled loudly in the distance, stopping any words that were about to come from anyone's mouth.  Rory looked up into the sky.  "My Captain, I think..."

"Come, Lady Tyler, we must all retreat below deck," he took her by the shoulder and lifted her to her feet.  She held onto her carving as he took her instead by the upper arm and dragged her down below deck.  Some men stayed above deck while others, Jack and Rory included, followed them both down the stairs.  John seemed to be a little disoriented, why, she couldn't tell, but he pulled her into his room and Jack followed.  He shut the door behind himself.  

"The storm is certainly about to break," Jack said.  "Shall I bring in something for you and the lady to eat, Captain?"

"What?" John replied, looking distracted.  "Oh.  Yes, well that would probably be best, I don't think Lady Tyler has eaten since this morning."

"I shall bring something to you," Jack said.  He flashed Rose a smile.  "If the lady would rather stay in my bunker-"

" _Jack."_

He spread his hands in mock innocence.  "Of course.  Perhaps the woman should decide for herself?" He cocked an eyebrow at Rose. 

Rose crossed her arms, the carving digging into her palm as she did so.  "Well, Jack, I must admit that your company is far more pleasing than that of Captain John."

"There are many, _many_ women who would agree with you on such a statement," John said coldly.  "The lady stays with me, Jack, that is a final statement."

"I assumed it would be, but I do promise that she would have a far better time weathering the storm with me."

"I'm sure you think that," John said.  "Now, can you fetch the lady something to eat and drink, _please?"_

She was tired of being talked about while she still stood in the room, and so Rose sat on John's bed, starting to carve again.  The captain fixed her with a hard stare before shooing Jack out. 

"My lady, I do not know what you think you are doing occupying that space," he said, imitating her prim accent.  

Rose's jaw set but she did not look up. "Well, I think you will find that you said I was only to stay in your cell during the nighttime hours.  You will also find that it is not nighttime."

He looked furious, positively livid.  "And what, you expect me to let you take a nap in my bed?"

"I am merely sitting here," she looked up at him.  "You are determined to hate every part of me, which is quite alright, I assure you, but you cannot expect me to bend to your every will.  You dragged me here at knife-point, tore me from my family, and you expect me to respect you.  It is foolish and naive." 

"Oh, I am the naive one?" John approached her, towering over her, but she did not back down from him.  "I told you before, Lady Tyler, you are very fortunate that it was I who found you and not Mr. Saxon."

"Mr. Saxon is not the swine you believe him to be."

"Ah, so you are in love with him."

Her gaze darkened in anger. "I never said that."

"Oh but you will marry him," he replied, very obviously goading her, trying his hardest to get a response.  "You will cave because you are weak."

She stood up suddenly, finding herself close enough to him that she was repulsed, not because he was not clean, because he most certainly was, but because of what he was saying.  "I will not _cave,_ as you so put it.  I do not wish to marry him, but I also do not wish to condemn him to an assumption you choose to make.  You are hardly a man of honor."

"I am built of only honor!" he shouted. "I have nothing left.  The ship, the men, they will fade, Rory will certainly be taking his leave soon.  I do not expect you to stay, do not _want_ you to stay.  I have the honor I have and nothing else!"

She felt more than saw his chest heaving with anger and noticed for the first time how truly beautiful he was.  Shocked and appalled by her own thought, she let a wave of hate crest and crash over her as she pushed him away.  He stumbled backwards, reaching back to grab the bars of the (her) cell.  "You insolent woman!" he shouted, "You are very, very fortunate that I am the sort of man that I am.  I would never lay a hand on you, and you know that, so you push me as far as you are able!"

"I do not wish to push you, but you nearly force me to!" she cried, "I _despise_ this and I despise you!  I want to go home!" 

"You are not going home!" He was bellowing now, "That has been made perfectly clear!" His eyes were full of something she could not identify and she at last understood why he had compared himself to a storm.  

He took the key and unlocked the cell.  "I've changed my mind.  You will stay here for the remainder of the evening and night."  The look in his gaze told her not to argue, yet still she wavered. 

"And if the storm destroys the ship?"  She asked, tilting her chin in defiance.  

"Then I will release you again," he replied through gritted teeth.  "Now get.  In."

Still clutching her knife and Rose in one hand, she went into the cell and did her best to make eye contact with him as he slammed the bars and locked her in with the key.  As though that were not enough, he pulled the curtain over her as well. 

"I see that you cannot bear to look at me," Rose said, her voice dripping with irony.  "I hate you."

"Must we fight every time we meet?" John sighed.  "I grow tired of this."

Rose huffed and sat down on her mat, leaning against the wall and beginning her carving again.  "You force me to dress like a man and now you lock me away during daytime hours.  If you wished not to fight, you should have picked a more demure lady."

"I did not wish to pick a more demure lady.  You were the most important.  Your mother would stop at nothing to find you again, no matter how long you were gone.  Many other ladies do not have such loving families, they merely pawn them off to the nearest man."

She fell silent, knowing he was right and not wishing to say anything about it.  It was terribly unfair, she told herself, that he was doing this to her, taking her from her family and shoving her in a cell.  A knock at the door sounded and she resigned herself to silence for the night.

Thunder rumbled again and Jack entered.  "Where is Lady Ty- Oh.  Captain," he sounded exasperated.  "You... You are unbelievable."

"Thank you, Jack, I'll take it from here."  John dismissed Jack clearly with his tone and Rose heard the door slam as he exited.  She felt the ship shake under rocky waves and she pressed her lips together, afraid of being sick. 

John pulled the curtain back and threw in a large piece of bread before handing in a bottle with a cork in it to her.  She removed the cork and took a careful sniff.  "This is rum," she said accusingly.

"Of course it's rum," he replied gruffly.  "What did you expect?"

" _Water,"_ she said simply, her voice sounding out the word clearly so there was no mistaking what she had requested.

"Water?  With supper, my good lady, should we have it.  We've got to pick up some at the next port."

"Why didn't you pick up some at the last port?" Rose felt her temper rising again at the very prospect that the men could be so foolish as to forget to collect water. 

John's mouth twitched.  "I rather think we had the collection of something else on our minds," he said, closing the curtain again.

"Oh, so you are to be cross with me all night?" She said loudly, before taking a long drink of the rum and wincing.  She'd never had a drink quite so strong before.  Nevertheless, if it was all there was on hand, she was going to have to make do.  

"I plan to be cross with you for every night you are here," he responded, his voice curt.  

She cringed as the thunder rumbled again.  "Well, I hope you do," she said, "You are never someone I wanted to meet."

"Of course.  You hate me."

"I do."

She was afraid of the storm just beyond, feeling vulnerable in the cell instead of in the main room, despite there being less windows where she was located.  Perhaps it was because she was trapped there, without having access to the key as well as the fact that she could not see anything other than her immediate surroundings.

"Well, that's good," he said absently.  "Eat your bread."

She saw lightening strike through the window and inhaled sharply.  She did not want to admit that she was afraid of a little rain, but the rocking of the massive ship and the madness outside.  She curled into the corner of the little cell, trying her best to feel safe.

Eating the bread seemed to be a challenge, as she was shivering at the cold that was setting in and her upset.  A loud rumble of thunder sounded just to her left and she closed her eyes.

"If I die, you will have to tell my mother," she said firmly, keeping her voice from shaking, which was quite the feat to her.

"You will not die."  he almost sounded bored.  

Rose shivered again.  "Let me out."

"Lady Tyler, are you afraid?" He asked her, his voice filled with amusement.  

She scowled at the curtain.  "Despite everything, I do feel fear," she said, shakily moving to carve on the little rose again.  John fell silent and she continued on in the carving in the relative quiet in the room.  The boat shook with another roll of thunder and the clouds broke, the rain suddenly pelting against her tiny window. 

A few minutes later, she finished the rose, and she put it in the little pocket on the inside of her vest, making it press snugly against her ribs.  Outside the cell she heard John give a little sigh and there was a bit of rustling.  He wrenched the curtain open and unlocked her cell.  She got to her feet suddenly, dropping the knife she'd been carving with.  Her shackles jingled with the motion and she walked briskly out of the cell, her head held high.  

As she exited, the boat rocked violently and they both fell, Rose on top of John, her hands restricted and making her collapse fully against him.  His arms came around her on instinct and she jolted in surprise at the gentle touch.  She pushed off, ending with her hands pressed to his chest.  She was hovering over him, but just barely.  His hands had landed on her waist, smoothing over her back in the process, and for a brief moment they stared at each other, shocked.  

She quickly realized where his hands were placed and sat back on her knees, between his legs and batted his hands away. 

"Are you alright?" He asked, sitting up.  His voice was cool, but it was nowhere near the steel it usually took on when he was addressing her. 

They were still too close, she could feel his breath on her face and her face twisted in upset.  "I am quite fine," she said.  

He cleared his throat and his eyes closed off again.  "Well, then, up you get," he said gruffly, standing and pulling her to her feet as well.  She dusted herself off and looked away from him.  

"When will you remove my shackles?" She asked, not wanting or willing to address anything that had just transpired between them.  

"When I see fit."

She walked over and sat herself on the edge of his bed.  "I will stay here until the storm passes."

He sighed heavily.  "I had a strange inkling that you would say exactly that."


	7. Chapter 7

As she had threatened, Rose stayed seated on the edge of Captain John's bed.  She felt a little bold in doing so, not wanting to look him in the eye as she laced her fingers together and set them gracefully on her lap.  Even under these dire and frightening circumstances, she would behave as a lady, like her mother had taught her.

Jackie would be proud of her, Rose was sure.  She missed her family, for she had never been separated from them for quite so long.  She could feel John watching her, waiting for her to say or do something.  She had her back to his bay windows, not wanting to look at the storm raging outside.

"If it pleases the lady, I could close the curtains so you will not have to worry about the storm."  His voice broke through the semi-silence that had covered, excluding the roaring of the rain and thunder outside. 

A flash of lightening sent Rose jolting as the light flashed onto the wall across from her.  "I do not think that will be as helpful as you think it will be," she said, and finally turned her attention to him.  "And I do not with to be alone in the dark with you."

He sighed heavily.  "You assume my intentions are impure, Lady Tyler, but I truly promise I have no want to seek your carnal knowledge."

She narrowed her eyes at him.  "I simply want to go home," she said curtly, "Your pain will be ended when you let me leave."

"When four million pounds changed hands, you will go home," his voice held stubbornness that was matched only by her own.

Her lips pursed as she tried to keep her temper under control.  "Am I worth that much trouble?" She asked sarcastically, "It will be a long while before you get your money."

"Yes."

"Yes what?"

He cocked his eyebrow.  "You decide."

She huffed and looked away from him again, unable to meet his gaze without feeling as though she were going to retch.  As handsome a man as he was, and he was handsome, his personality was vile.  He was even closed off and she could tell just by the parts he showed of himself that he was a despicable human being not worth her time.

Though somehow, in her mind, it was hard to say that Mr. Saxon was a better man.  She rather found that in the end, she couldn't.  He was not going to hurt her, but she could not say the same about Mr. Saxon.  He was unpredictable and vile in a whole different way.  At least John was easy to follow, she was able to understand where he was coming from and where he was going.  It made it rather easy to begin a rapport with him, friendly or otherwise. 

She had a feeling that it would always be otherwise when it came to Captain John Smith.

"You left your knife in the cell," John pointed out several minutes later after he had seated himself on a stool that she hadn't seen when she was in the room before. 

"I do not need it," she replied. 

"You could have killed me."

"I do believe I told you that I do not want to kill you, or your men," she said, "That would be useless and you do not believe me."

"I don't know you," he pointed out, "You could be a compulsive liar, a woman who gets only what she wanted through womanly wiles and a flutter of her eyelashes and a future black widow."

She got to her feet, fuming with the accusations, feeling her cheeks and chest flush in anger.  "I am not a lady of the evening!" She shouted.  "You cannot make such claims when you know nothing of me!"

"I have seen you before, Lady Tyler!  You forget!" He was shouting now, too, both of them escalating.  "You flirt and you connive!"

"I am simply kind!" Rose clenched her fists, "It would do you well, Captain, to learn that particular skill."

He let out a harsh bark of laughter that startled her.  "Oh, Lady Tyler, you know nothing of kindness if you think you practice it!  You stroke their arms as you dance and make them want and then you leave the ball with your dignity intact!  What a woman you are!"

"I hold my innocence!  Can I say the same for you?"

"Yes!" he shouted, "You can!  You should!  You will!"

"If you are permitted to shout at me and insult my virtue, I should be permitted to do the same!"  She was breathing heavily now, frustrated and feeling the urge to slap him, which she might have done were not both her hands chained.  

"I think you'll find that my virtue is far less valuable than yours," he said, his gaze as stormy as the weather outside.  

"So you wish to ruin me?"

He let out a cry of frustration.  "I _wish_ to take your parents' money and send you away!"

"Oh, and what is it you are using all this money for?" She asked, false curiosity in her voice.  "Have you a dowry to pay for a woman who will not marry you otherwise?"

His jaw set.  "I have no woman," he said, "You really wish to start an argument about women with me?"

"I never said that I wished to argue with you," she told him firmly, "But you insist on... Being like that!" She gestured her hands vaguely.

"Pardon, my lady!" He shouted, giving a grand mock bow.  "Shall I take you into my arms and romance you, take you on a waltz through the ballroom, give you the finest wine to drink?"

"I desire none of that from you!" She cried.

"And with that very statement, Lady Tyler, you have saved the very happiness of my existence."  He clutched his hand over his heart and she found herself boiling again.

"You only say these things because you know you could never have me!" She laughed, a cruel sound she never thought could come from her.

He seemed to take this as a challenge and stepped forward.  "I could have you, if I wanted you," he said lowly, "If I wanted you in my arms you would be there."

"It is a very fine thing I do not wish to be there."

"Aye, my lady, that it is."  He stepped back from her.  "You will stay here until the storm passes," he said, suddenly sounding absent.  He turned on his heel and opened the door to his chambers, both of them startled as several men who had been listening to their shouting match fell into the room.  John jumped back to avoid a fall and began sputtering madly.  

"Raise you up," he said gruffly, "We've work to be done."

He pushed past the other men and waited for them outside the door.  As they left, he shut the door and she heard the sound of the lock clicking.  She sat heavily on John's bed again and sighed.  How many keys did that man carry on his person?

****

John stormed about in the storing area of the ship, checking their rations with Rory and Jack, who kept exchanging odd, knowing looks.  He'd been very different since Lady Tyler had been on board.  More rough, less of the good time he used to be.  This woman was affecting him, be it positively or negatively, it was happening and someone had to deal with it. 

"Captain John, has it come to your attention that your relations with Lady Tyler-"

John cut Rory's words off with a rough laugh as he began counting the remaining bottles of rum and other alcoholic drinks.  "What relations?  Rory, you have more relations with her than I do."

"She offered you her carving," Rory said.

John snorted.  "She was in jest."

"She was not."

"You do not know Lady Tyler," John said patiently, "She is a wicked woman, a seductress."

Jack squinted, as though he was having a hard time conjuring such an image of the lady.  "No, Captain John, she cannot be.  If she truly were, would she not be already between the sheets with one of your men?"

"If she were out of my sight more I would have no doubt."

"She was with me the majority of the day, sir," Rory spoke up, a bit nervously.  "She speaks of love, not of lust, of happiness and finding something... Worth having."

Jack saw an opportunity to prove his point and nodded furiously.  "Besides, Captain, if she wanted to seduce one of your men, would she not busy herself with one who was unattached."

John faltered, knowing that Jack was right, but not willing to see it.  As determined as he was to hate Lady Tyler (and doing a fine job of it) he had an odd warmth touching the blazing new memory of his arms around her when she fell, her head collapsed on his chest.  The angry flush that had covered her just minutes before was rather attractive, at that.  

But there was nothing about the woman herself that he found attractive besides her physical appearance. She was haughty and indignant and cruel to him.

But according to Rory, she was also kind.

She was an empress of seduction, a woman bent on getting her will. 

She was beautifully stubborn.

He felt himself close off at the last thought, not wanting to associate such positive words with her.  He wanted to hate her, and he did, but it made him the slightest bit envious that she got along with all the others on the ship and not him.  

"She was not in jest," Rory repeated.  "Perhaps, Captain, she is the woman you have been searching for, though you will not say."

He turned on his men, then, their intentions pure and his full of fury.  "You have no right to tell me what I am searching for," he said coldly, "And if I were to marry, or even fall in love, it would not be with a woman like Lady Tyler.  She would expect jewels and gold showered upon her for her hand.  She would expect unwavering devotion."

"Those are things you would give to a woman you love," Jack said quietly, carefully, "I know that about you, Captain.  If you were to love her, you would stay with her forever."

"Well then, it is thanks to the fates that I do not love her," he said harshly.  

"No one said you did."

A silence set over them and John sighed, resigned to tell them what he _did_ think, if only so they would leave him alone.  "She is a beautiful woman," he said, "But she is uptight and cold.  She is not the warmth a woman seeking marriage should be.  She is cruel and attacks below the belt with words, insulting virtue of those around her."

"We heard the shouting," Rory said, scratching his neck nervously, "You were doing a bit of insulting of her virtues as well."

"It was warranted!" He cried, "She provokes me at every turn!  If she wishes to argue, than we will argue, I will see no error with it!" 

Jack laughed and shook his head.  "So it is acceptable for your attacks to be below the proverbial belt, but not hers?  A double standard, Captain." 

"I am not incorrect."

Rory shifted on his feet.  "At the next port, ask her if she is still willing to give you her carving."

"My _God,_ Rory, she was in jest!" he cried out in frustration.

"I do not think Lady Tyler would say such a tender thing in jest," Jack said.

John rolled his eyes.  "You are lovesick fools, and you think that because you know where happiness is that everyone else should have it as quickly as possible.  You are fools, and will surely die young because of it."

He scribbled several numbers of inventory and stormed from the room.

Jack furrowed his brows. "I think they would be rather good together," he said thoughtfully.

"Aye," Rory replied, his tone mournful.  "She finds him pleasing to the eye, that much is plain to see."

Jack gave his friend a curious look.  "You taught her to carve, yes?"

"Aye."

"And, pray tell, did she really offer it to our dear, misguided Captain?"

"Indeed," Rory replied, picking up where their rather distracted leader had left off with the inventory that needed to be taken before they reached the next port.  "She placed it unfinished into his hands and said that if he so desired, he could have it when it was completed."

"And his response?"

"He did not respond to her directly, merely asked why I was teaching her such frivolity, or something of the sort," he shrugged, "And he said that it was probably better that I was giving her something to do because she cannot do ship work."

Jack blew out his cheeks.  "They are hopeless." He thought for a moment.  "Perhaps at the next port we shall fetch Rose some more womanly garments, ones she can feel comfortable in?"

"The stays and layers will not serve her well here, Jack."

"No, something more simple, a simple frock like the servant girls wear.  Captain John said himself that he found her beautiful."

"So if we fetch her a gown-"

"-He will see her as a beautiful woman who may return affections he does not know he has yet." Jack said.  "I think she would be good for him."

"Perhaps that is true," Rory said, "She is a better woman than he thinks her to be.  If they did not pick fights with each other, then perhaps they would connect."

Jack opened his mouth to reply, but at that moment thunder shook the boat.  His mouth set into a grim line.   "I believe we will soon have worse problems on our hands."


	8. Chapter 8

Rose had submitted herself to laying down on the end of John's bed, curled up into a ball and trying to ignore the raging storm outside.  Because the boat was so sizable, it only rocked slightly, but it still made her emotions turn to uneasiness.  She did not feel safe in the slightest, and thought that John would not be returning any time soon, given the row they had had.

Was it not true that a woman would have to have a friendship or any kind of positive relationship with someone to be able to have a row with them?  Every time she saw or spoke to John they had a row, so she hardly thought he counted as any sort of friend.  He was irrelevant to her lifestyle, and all he had done was disrupt her living.  She was furious, despised him and everything he stood for. 

Lightening flashed and she shivered, feeling less safe with her back to the bay windows but not bearing to look outside.  She finally scrambled up and did her very best to shut the curtains, even with her hands bound.  It was a feat she accomplished only after several minutes, the scarlet window coverings keeping the lightening at bay.  She only wished that it did something to disguise the sounds of the ship creaking, or the rain pushing violently against the wood as though it was trying to get in.  

She laid back down where she had been at the foot of the bed and closed her eyes, whispering prayers, truly fearing for her life.  Any storm she had experienced, she had been inside for, tucked up in bed or a family room, both equally safe places.  She wondered how she was not getting seasick, if she was naturally able to withstand being thrown around like this.  Her eyes still closed, she braved the storm alone, not wishing to think of how alone she really was.  Rory and Jack were good friends to her, surely, but they were not here, could not be with her at this moment.  She shivered and was exhausted, but could not be dared to fall asleep. 

John was pacing the upper deck, being drenched in the rain and fuming after his conversation with Jack and Rory.  They tried to convince him that he was lonely, that he needed someone, and of course they would be persuaded to think that Lady Rose Tyler would be the one for him. 

The very notion was enough to make him laugh.  Of course, she was such a _Lady,_ prim and proper and not suitable for a pirate's life.  Jack and Rory clearly thought too highly of her.  She was kind to them, surely, but she was stubborn against him and it was clear she did not respect him.  A small voice told him that that was because he had dragged her to his ship at knifepoint, but he decided not to address that voice.  He refused to see Lady Tyler in a positive light and would not be convinced otherwise. 

Rory had been certain that Lady Tyler had not been in jest when she had offered him the little carving she was making.  He found the very notion absurd.  She had not been holding it when she exited her cell, it was probably finished and shoved somewhere on her person, possibly against her breast, as the key had been.

He found himself swallowing heavily.  He was not quite sure where that thought had come from, but he did to push it back where it came from.  It would not do to think of his captive that way.  Oh, she was attractive, that was an indisputable fact, but her behavior and the scowl that covered her face whenever she was in his presence was enough to discourage a man from even attempting closeness.  

She had tried to pull him out of his nightmares and she did not even know him, possibly hated him. 

He set his jaw and tilted his face towards the rain as lightening struck around him and thunder rolled.  She was simply disturbed that he had cried out and merely wanted the torture to end.  He forced a hardened look onto his face to walk back below deck.  

"Captain!" One of the men cried as he reached the bottom deck.  "You were out in the storm?  The rest of us came back ages ago, it's not safe."

"I am not safe," he replied, "It is the storm who should be afraid of me."

He brushed past the man, who, by now, was certainly used to this sort of behavior from the Captain, and went straight to his room.  He unlocked it and entered, seeing Rose curled up on his bed and murmuring words against her own hands.  

John slammed the door behind him and she sat up instantly, looking chastised.  That look quickly escaped her face, replaced by one of a woman who had been greatly inconvenienced.  Her gaze traveled over his wet clothes and she arched an eyebrow. 

"You were out in the rain?"

"There was work to be done above deck," he said airily, pulling a set of clothes out from where all his shirts and breeches were neatly folded.  He toed his boots off, leaving them in a corner to dry.  Rose was watching him carefully, as though she did not believe him in the slightest.  

"You are aware, of course, that all the other men are below deck."

"Of course.  How is it that you are aware, my lady?"

"I heard Jack discussing it outside the door," she said, nodding to indicate the place she was speaking of.  "I did not think you were so foolish as to stand out in it, catching your death."

As though her words had sent a cold upon him, he coughed.  "You have made it very clear that you think I am a fool," he retorted.  "Kindly tell me, my lady, why you are suddenly concerned for my well being."

"Just because I dislike you does not mean you should die," she replied simply.

He blinked, surprised at her words.  He had expected an onslaught of anger, of her telling him to die so she could go back to her home and live in peace.  It was a cruel expectation to be sure, but she did not stoop to it.

"Oh, surely, you must want me dead," he said indignantly.  

She tilted her chin at him, looking every bit a royal queen, sitting atop his bedding as though it was the place she belonged.  He furrowed his brows at her and stared her down, awaiting her response and waiting for her to remove herself form him bed. 

For a moment, she did neither, simply watching him back as he was watching her.  She regarded him as a caged animal that would bolt at any moment.  "I never said I wished for your death," she told him, "I simply said that I hated you, disliked you with most of my being."

"Not all?" He asked ironically.

"Not all," she repeated.  "There is chance yet for redemption.  For example..." She shook her wrists pointedly, making the shackles clink together and alerting his attention to them.

He set his jaw, anger rising in him yet again at her insolent behavior.  He clenched his hands at his sides.  "You will not be released."

"Where do you expect me to go?" She was shouting now, having exploded, and sprung to her feet.  "I surely cannot _swim_ back home, nor can I overtake the ship and pilot it home.  I cannot overpower any of you, I value my life!" Her eyes were snapping with a fire he did not know existed in any woman.  "As much as you overestimate me, Captain John, I am flattered, but you cannot expect that I will overpower fifty men!" 

They were both panting, why John's breathing was escalated he did not know, though he attributed it to an intense anger that no one had placed in him before.  He simultaneously wanted to throttle her and to give in to her wishes.  The urge to unlock her shackles and set her free about the ship was an odd feeling that he pushed away from him.  She could not be free.  

"I will release you from your shackles when I see fit, Lady Tyler," he told her through gritted teeth.  "And if you think I overestimate you, please, by all means, prove me wrong."

"I cannot prove you wrong as long as you keep me locked away!"

"Is that what you think you are?  Some damsel in distress, a princess in a tower waiting to be rescued by her prince, _Mr. Saxon?"_

He did not know why he was making all these accusations, why he was provoking her, all he knew was that it felt _good,_ that arguing with her made him feel as though he had an equal.  She did not overpower him nor try to back down from a fight.  Every encounter with her was spirited and dare he say it, amusing.

A thought came unbidden to him, wondering where, _exactly, precisely,_ she was keeping that tiny rose carving. 

Tears were springing to her eyes and he had a feeling that perhaps he had pushed things too far.  "Why do you continue to speak of him?" She was screaming, angry, her hands clenched in their confinement.  "What is he to you?  You are aware I do not wish to marry him, and still you shove his existence and want of a wife down my throat, as though I would take him in a moment.  I would not!"

Before he could stop her, she rushed to him and shoved him with both hands, the unexpected strength behind her push sending him tumbling into the wall, and tears falling, ran from the room.

He scrambled to his feet, righting himself and sparing a look at his boots, wondering if he should put them back on, took after her.  

She was already gone, disappeared down the hallway, but Rory stood shocked in the middle of the hallway as though something rather drastic had happened.  John's mood darkened and he approached his friend, grabbing him by the shoulder.  "Where has she gone?" He shouted, "Where has the _wench_ gone?"

Rory blinked at his severity.  "You would do well to not use such words in front of her, Captain."

"Well, as you can see, Rory, we are alone, she is not in front of us.  Now, pray tell, where has she _gone?"_

"Above deck, Captain.  At least that's where it appeared she was going."

He growled and headed towards the staircase to lead above deck.  "If she falls over in this storm she will surely drown."

He saw her standing in the middle on the deck, staring up into the sky, seemingly no longer afraid of the ocean or the storm that shook the boat.  He approached her and whirled her around with one hand, gripping her arm painfully.  She cried out in shock and pain and tried to pull away from him.  

"You are a wicked woman," he growled, towering over her.  "A fool, you could kill us both!"

"I want to die!" She screamed at him.  "My family will never receive four million pounds, and you know that!  I will not live as a pirate, I can not!" 

He could discern between the tears and the wetness of the rain, her hair plastered to the side of her face, which was contorted in obvious pain.  He knew she was not thinking clearly and he knew he should stop whatever game of provocation he was playing with her.  He reached out a shaky hand to her, unsure of her response.

"Come here."

"No!"

"Lady Tyler, please."

"Take me home, let me go back!" she sobbed. "I despise you and I despise the ship I stand upon!"

Not able to ask again due to frustration, he lunged forward and grabbed her, pulling her tight against his chest to keep her from moving anywhere.  Her cheek connected with his collarbone and lighting struck, sending her frantically pushing again, her movements restricted but precise. 

She was near hysterics, and if _he_ caught cold up here, she would be dead within a fortnight.  Fending her off, keeping her shoving from being too strong, he tried to sweep her up to carry her below deck, but she cried out and only pushed him more. 

" _You_ sleep in a cell!   _You_ wear clothes that make you feel naked!   _You_ sit trapped upon a vessel!  You know me not, leave me be!" 

He shook her shoulders and held them tightly in his grasp.  "I will not let you die over a fit of hysterics!"

Her face took on an oddly serene look as the storm raged around them.  She reached out a hand to touch his cheek, and he knew that whoever he was speaking with now, it was an odd part of Lady Tyler that was succumbing to hysteria and panic.  She was afraid of storms.  This would kill her, surely.  

Her fingers trailed down his cheekbone.  "You care for me not.  You are a fool," she said, "A beautiful, _wicked, cruel fool."_

His eyes widened at her words and her eyes rolled back in her head as she fell unconscious.  He swept her up into his arms, holding her against his chest and setting off to carry her below deck when he saw a ship in the distance. 

He squinted at it through the storm.  It was but a spec, steering parallel to them.  When he realized what ship it was, he gasped and unconsciously tightened his grip on Rose.

 _Skaro._ They would be following.


	9. Chapter 9

Rose awakened in a warm bed, dressed in only a warm night shift.  It was shorter than the standard night shift, which she found odd, but was too tired to address in her mind.  She rolled over and set herself deeper in the covers, pulling them up to her chin. 

The bed sheets did not smell like any of her perfumes and she sat up abruptly, to see John sitting at her bedside, wringing his hands.  She looked down to see she was not wearing her shackles, and that was why she had forgotten where she was.  

"Lay back," he demanded, and she found she was too tired to begin an argument with him.  She lay back against his many pillows, keeping her eyes on him as she did so. 

They watched each other quietly for several moments, no communication passing between them, even through their eyes.  He was staring her down, anger flashing in his eyes.  What right did he have to be angry, she wondered?  

"You are an idiot of the highest order," he said, carding a hand through his already messed hair.  

She clenched her jaw.  "I hardly think it was just I being foolish," she said, "You are the one who-"

"Enough!" He shouted, then quickly tamped himself down.  "You ran onto the deck, not knowing even remotely what would happen to you."

She closed her eyes, pressing her hand to her forehead.  "I do not...  I didn't mean to..."

"I upset you," he said curtly, leaning back in the wooden chair.  "I apologize."

Rose turned her head and blinked at him, a little uncertain at his actions.  "You... You apologize?"

"Yes.  Do not make me regret it."

"No, I just..." She shook her head, not finding any other words to say on the matter.  She looked ahead of her.  "Oh! You vile creature, you changed my clothes!"

John blinked, as though it was not her intention that she bring up this particular turn of events.  He opened and shut his mouth again before glaring at her.  "You were soaking wet," he replied, "You would have caught your death if I'd not done something."

True enough, even her hair was still a bit damp, hinting that his words were true.  She huffed quietly and turned on her side away from him.  

He felt anger burn through him.  For all she knew, he'd saved her life, taken care of her before he'd changed into dry clothes of his own.  He clenched his jaw, doing his best not to kick her out of his bed.  It was incredibly difficult to not turn the ship around and take her right back home. 

The storm had wavered, the skies slowly clearing, and the yellow light played across Rose's face, making her appearance even more delicate than it already was.  He swallowed and looked away from her, forcing himself to steel against her.  He knew from experience that if he could live under the pretense of hating her for long enough, he would soon enough genuinely despise her.  He was not sure if that was what he desired, but it was what he was doing and she could certainly not stop him. 

"You are _welcome,_ my lady," he said, standing and crossing to her things.  He pulled out the little wooden rose, which he'd laid on top of everything else to let dry.  Against his will and better judgement, he got to his knees on the side of the bed, facing her.  "You are lucky this was not destroyed."

She gave him a skeptical and careful look, her fingers closing around the little carving.  Her fingertips brushed his palm in the process but she did not offer him so much as a smile.  "Thank you," she said.  "I had forgotten this was on my person."

"Clearly," he said, standing and retreating from her, allowing the burn of fury to creep up his body.  His dislike for this woman was immense and would not be undone by her beauty, he could promise himself that much, if nothing else.  

Her eyes were heavy as she rolled the rose between her fingers.  He had to wonder if she did plan on gifting it to him, but found the notion rather impossible.  She was surely just a cruel tease.  She looked a bit weak and tired, and he sighed, resigned.

"Get some sleep," he demanded, "You've had a taxing day, not that it was anyone's fault but your own.  Goodnight, my lady."

"The light of day still shines," she replied tartly.

" _Goodnight, my Lady."_

Her fire seemed to come out and her eyes fell shut, her fingers around the rose loosening. He removed it from her hand and placed it on the desk where it would not stab her if she rolled over.  It struck him that she was comfortable enough around him to willingly fall into sleep.  He shook his head. She was a foolish woman, nothing more.

He thought resolutely to himself that he would return her shackles to her wrists once she was awake and back in day clothes.  For now, though, she would be locked in here.  He did not wish to stay with her, had far more important things to do, after all. He retreated from the room, locking the door behind him before retreating to storage to set aside some dried meat and bread for her.  No doubt she would be hungry when she awoke.

"Land, ho!" One of the men cried out about a half hour later.  They were reaching a port in France.  John insisted that the men pick up the supplies, he had correspondents to catch up on and would be writing up letters.  Jack and Rory were the first sprinting off the boat, for what he could not imagine.

Jack knew immediately where to go.  He thundered into the shop run by a courtly woman named Reinette.  Upon seeing him, she grinned widely and kissed both him and Rory on the cheeks. 

"My weary pirates have returned. What is it you seek, men?" She asked, crossing her arms and leaning against the counter.

"We seek a simple frock," Rory said with no preamble.

Reinette gave him an odd look.  "Master Rory, what _exactly_ do you need a frock for?"

Jack let out a shout of laughter.  "We have a captive, Reinette, a beautiful woman by the name of Lady Rose Tyler."

"Ah, yes!  She is of very high esteem in England, is she not?"

"Aye, my lady," Jack nodded.  "And as beautiful is she is, and kind to us, all she does with our dear Captain is fight."

"All your dear Captain does is fight," Reinette rolled her eyes, "Or at least try to pick them."

Rory nodded in agreement. "He has dressed her in men's clothing and she is no doubt uncomfortable."

Reinette saw through their words in a heartbeat and grinned broadly at them.  "Ah, you set to find a woman for our lonely god, do you?" She teased.

Jack smiled.  "Aye," he nodded. "The two of them, Reinette, even when they are fighting, which is _always,_ they are magic."

Reinette, a hopeless romantic in her own right, leaned her elbows against the counter.  "Oh, do tell me more."

"She ran into the storm that passed mere hours ago, in hysterics,  as John tells it.  I saw him carry her down, unconscious.  He looked angry, but, well, he always looks angry," Rory shrugged.  "But he also looked worried.  As if, for the first time, he cared what happened to her."

"Ah," Reinette smiled softly.  "Is she a woman who could tame his heart?"

"I believe so, my Lady," Jack said, "Usually I would never say such words.  But she has an effect on him that lights him on fire and puts it out all at once."

Reinette tapped the side of her nose.  "My dear pirates, I have just the frock for you.  I trust you will pay me in real coins this time?" 

Jack pulled the bag of gold coins from his waist and winked at her.  "Among other things," he told her, making her giggle and shake her head as she turned to pick up the dress.

"What is her size?"

"That of yours, my Lady."

"She will need proper undergarments.  Are you prepared to pay?" 

"Yes, my Lady."

She hummed in the back of her throat and brought out a pile of clothing. She held the dress up to her own shapely body and arched her eyebrow.  "If this will not draw him to her, I would investigate other reasons as to why the dear Captain has not taken a woman into his company."

Once Jack had finished drooling over Reinette, he flashed her a grin.  "Of course.  Now, about payment."

Rory set off with the other men to pick up supplies, knowing that if they did not return by nightfall their Captain would have words with them.  Despite what John said about needing to get in touch with correspondents, he knew that he really did not wish to leave Lady Tyler on her own on the ship and did not want anyone else with her.

The men would do nothing to her, of that Rory was certain.  She was locked in the Captain's quarters, sleeping away a potential cold.  The fact that John was not with her was a touch unnerving, but there was little to be done about it.  He should stay with her in case she required something.  

Rory and the men picked everything up with something less than haste, stopping to have a pint of rum at a pub.  France was kind to the pirates of the _Tardis,_ especially when it came to drink.  The men had their fill until that night, when they were all properly drunk.  

Their supplies, food, and a barrel of water (taken by Rory to give Rose something to drink besides rum) were taken to the ship, the men singing loudly as they loaded them.  Rose was awakened by all this and peered out the bay windows down to the docks.  She smiled as Rory threw an empty bottle of rum in the air, shocked as it hit him in the shoulder.  

Somewhere, far from her, she heard a door slam and footsteps sound, walking past the door and off the ship.  She watched as John stormed out and pointed wildly at the men, trying to get them to focus on the job at hand, perhaps.  The men instantly looked sheepish and stumbled into line, loading the supplies.  

Rose slunk down in the bed when she saw John point angrily at the bay window, making all the other men look up at it.  The moon had risen and she knew she was not going to catch cold.  Sitting up, she looked about for her clothes and could not find them.  When she heard the men coming back onto the ship, she awaited a visit from one of them.

Sure enough, after a moment, the door was unlocked, and John and Jack came in, Jack with a wide smile on his face and a scowl on John's.  

"I've brought you something, Lady Tyler," he said happily, coming forth to lay the paper bag with the frock in it on her bed.  "Wear it tomorrow, will you?"

Rose smiled, drawing the sheets up to her chest.  "Of course, Jack.  That was very thoughtful of you."

"I didn't ask him to-"

"I know perfectly well you did not," Rose said, sending John a glare.

He squared his jaw and looked away from her, as though he could not bear to look at her any longer.  Jack ignored it and set the bag outside her cell.  "Will you require assistance?" He asked, waggling his eyebrows.

"It _occurs_ to me, Jack, that you have had quite enough to drink," John said, pushing him from the room.  He turned back to Rose, an uneasy look on his face.  "You may sleep in the bed tonight."

She feigned surprise, gasping, "Oh, I may?  Perhaps I can sleep without the shackles as well?"

"You may," he said, clenching his fists.

She dropped her game, not bold enough to get out of the bed in just a night shift but just bold enough to behave appropriately.  "I cannot ask that you give your bed over to me."

"It will be fine," he said, his voice softening a bit.  "You may sleep in the bed.  I want...  You have had a taxing day, Lady Tyler, mostly due to me.  I apologize."

She looked away from him for a moment. "You are forgiven," she said quietly.

He approached the bed and pulled the curtains shut.  "I will return in the morning.  Fear not, I will knock first, perhaps you can dress in what Jack has purchased for you before I arrive."

"Perhaps," she replied.  

The light was dimmed now, and Rose watched as John retreated to the door.  She was about to lay back when he sat forward. 

"Goodnight," she said abruptly. 

"Goodnight, Lady Tyler."  He shut the door, and she heard the lock click shut once more.


	10. Chapter 10

John paced around the ship, not quite sure where he was to sleep now that he had Lady Tyler in his bed.  It was odd, for he had never had a woman in his bed, and he was unsure of what to think about the whole situation.  Jack found him pacing and stopped him, looking worried.

"Are you quite alright, Captain?" he asked. 

"Fine, thanks," John said absently.  "It appears that I will be sleeping elsewhere tonight."

Jack smiled.  "Yes, well, there is a cot down in where our storage was just loaded on."

John sighed heavily, staring down the hallway.  "We should have never taken that vile woman hostage," he said curtly.  

"You know perfectly well she is not vile," Jack replied, drawing his brows together.  "I think somewhere deep inside yourself you think much fonder thoughts of her than you would allow yourself to admit."

"Absolutely not," John said with conviction.  "There is no way to care for a woman like her.  She wants to be pampered, does not seem to understand that she is a prisinor here.  Now, I'll be off to my _cot_ now."

He stormed past his friend with the aura of perpetual anger surrounding him.  Jack shook his head to himself.  Perhaps that man would never learn.

With all the sleeping Rose had done the day before, it was no wonder she woke about an hour before the hungover men stumbled out of their beds.  She sat up, feeling oddly refreshed.  She slid from the soft sheets of the bed, shivering a bit at the cold, and walked to where John had left the package that Jack had bought for her. 

She lifted it to the bed and unwrapped it, marveling at the kindness of the other pirate and wondering if he had actually payed for it at all.  She grinned to herself and decided she didn't much care.  It was the intent behind the gift that mattered, after all, and she gasped softly when she opened it. 

It was a simple frock, one that would fall right to her feet, and a set of simple undergarments to pair with it.  The dress was a light green color that would look very fetching against her skin with lace sleeves and a low neckline, as was the style in France.  

Without wasting a second more of her time, she discarded the shirt that she had been wearing, presumably John's, and folded it carefully before dressing in the undergarments, tying the back of it, which would give her breasts a bit of a lift.  She had never worn anything quite like that before, and the mere thought of it made her blush.  Still, it was better than the men's clothing she had been wearing the day prior. 

The dress buttoned up in the back, and although it took Rose a long time, considering she did it alone, when she smoothed her hands down the material she felt all the more a woman.  John had a modest mirror in the room and she turned before it, admiring how the dress fit her, accentuating and flattering her womanly curves.  She lamented silently that she would still have to wear the small men's boots that she'd been wearing before but made herself a note in her mind to thank Jack for his kindness.  

Soon the boots were slid on, no longer wet from her excursion onto the deck during the storm, and she saw that a hairbrush lay on John's desk-like vanity.  She chewed her lip, debating, but if she really wanted to feel beautiful, she felt that it would be a final step of sorts.  He never had to know that she used it.  

She was careful to clean out the hair that was pulled into the brush and glanced back in the mirror.  She was so much more confident with her hair pinned up, but knew that she was going to have to make do.  Just as she was finishing, a rough knock sounded at her door. 

"Come in," she said, lacing her fingers together in front of her. 

John entered, looking haggard and tired, and she felt a rush of guilt for taking his bed from him, and how cruel she had initially been about his kindness.  He was wearing a new set of clothes, the standard for him, black blousy shirt, breeches, and boots.  A cutlet and gun were attached to his belt, and Rose took a step back at the very sight of them.

"Good morning, Lady Tyler," he said, sounding every bit of exhausted as he looked.  It seemed to be then that he noticed what she was wearing and his eyes traveled slowly over her.  Had she not been within the distance that she was, she would have missed the hard swallow he'd forced down.  She smiled a little, happy to know that her feminine wiles had not been completely destroyed by this little adventure. 

"And you, Captain John."

He lifted the shackles in one hand.  "I think-"

She scowled at him, cutting him off.  "Do you really think I would attack you?  If you wish to let me leave the ship when we reach a port, then you may put those wretched things on my hands.  For now-" she thrust her hands in his direction, showing him the dark bruises that had formed on her wrists because of constant scraping and jarring of the shackles.  He took in a sharp breath, and, seemingly without a thought to it, took one of her hands in his own to examine the bruising.  She dropped the hand he was not holding as he lifted the other close to his face to inspect it. 

He seemed to be lost in his own mind this morning, barely acknowledging her directly as he ran his thumb over the bruising.  "My apologies, Lady Tyler," he said lowly, "I promised I would not hurt you and... I have."

"You will not place them back on my wrists, not unless we leave the ship." It was a command, and for once, he succumbed.  

He lowered her hand, but still held it in his own.  She stared resolutely up into his face, preparing to fight him on his decision.  Much to her surprise, he nodded slowly.  "No, I will not put them back on." 

"Thank you."

They both stood there for longer than was strictly necessary, neither of them quite sure why they could not stop looking at each other.  Finally, John gasped and dropped her hand, taking several steps back.  "Jack will fetch you for breakfast if you cannot find your way down," he said in a rushed voice and left the room without having the semblance of mind to shut the door or really do anything else at all. 

Rose found her heart was pounding and nearly shushed it, surprised at the turn of events.  She walked out of the door and ran right into Jack.

"I was sent to fetch you by the mad blur or my Captain," he grinned and looked her over.  "Lady Tyler, you look positively beautiful!"

She blushed slightly and smiled.  "Thank you, Jack."

He led her down to breakfast.  It was a much quieter even than the day before, as most all of the men were hung over, even Rory looked a little shadowed after a spirited night in France.  

"I did nothing unfaithful, did I?" He asked Jack anxiously as he entered with Rose.  He looked panicked at the very notion.

"No, Rory," Jack shook his head.  "In fact, you cried out your love for Amelia among the people in the streets and we had to keep you quiet.  People were beginning to think you were mourning for your dead wife."

A flush broke over Rory's face.  "Well, as long as I conducted myself accordingly," he mumbled, shuffling himself off to his seat.

"Take your seat next to the Captain, Lady Tyler," Jack said, nudging her in that direction.

Rose resisted and turned to Jack, a pitiful look secured upon her face.  "Must I?" She asked, "I don't-"

"Yes, you must," Jack replied patiently.  "He will want the captive next to him in meals."

"We have only ever eaten a morning meal in this dining area," Rose gestured to the large space. 

Jack smiled. "If we all eat at once, who will care for the ship?"

The breakfast consisted of fresh fruit and some of the dried meat that the men had insisted upon.  Rose found that John would not look at her nor speak to her, a development she was anything but angry about.  It was better that he did not, but the reason seemed to be that he was violently guilty about the bruising on her wrists.  She supposed that she should not have made such an even of it, let it be, for he seemed utterly distraught about it. 

He spoke with the other men, his voice low, when finally he announced in a loud voice, "We will be picking up speed.  We will stop at a port in Scotland and take off into the wide expanse.  Now it is more than what we thought it was before, we are fleeing _Skaro."_

Rose's heart skipped a beat.  This was exactly what she had feared.

The men all chattered a little in shock and turned back to their captain, eager to hear more so they could prepare accordingly for a potential attack.

"I spotted their ship on the horizon during the storm," John said, "Of course, they want who we have, but she shall not leave this ship unless she is with me, is that understood?" At the men's vigorous nodding, he continued.  "They will surely know where we are going, will know we are in Scotland, but you all know that we need more supplies that they supply there, more than the rum and finery of France." He shot Jack a look, who grinned widely, taking the accusation in stride.

Rory shifted uncomfortably.  "Do you think, Captain, that we will be engaged in battle with Davros and his crew?"

"It does not escape me as a possibility," John replied.  "They are cruel men, will be even crueler to Lady Tyler, and we cannot have that.  Four million pounds, men."

The men all let out murmurs of assent and Rose found herself growing angry.  For a moment it had seemed as though he cared about her well being, whether or not she made it off this ship alive, now she knew it was just the coin behind it all he wanted.  She had been a fool, earlier that morning, to think that he was being kind to her because they were both human beings and perhaps under the hardness of his pirate life he was a good man.

She glared at him and he caught her eye.  His gaze immediately turned hard again when he saw her expression.  "I am _trying_ to protect you," he scolded, "And yet you fix me with the stare of a woman who has-"

"Shut up."

"Such tart, servantly words from a lady," he retorted.

The fire was back, the anger that sparked between them every time they spoke, and both Rose and John had a wandering thought that maybe it wasn't such a bad thing before they lit into each other.  

"You speak to me like I am the dirt beneath your feet," she said, "Not that you are rich enough to walk upon dirt, mind, just the boards of an old ship."

Both ignored the men, who were now chatting along all by themselves as though any of the argument was not happening at all.  Jack and Rory, of course, were watching carefully, waiting for one of them to slip and show a true emotion.  

"Oh, how truly awful that I have not had the privilege to walk on the marble floors that have had the privilege of touching your shoes," John sneered, turning towards her in a dominant fashion.  "That I have not danced with ladies of the court.  Tragic, isn't it?"

"Hardly!" She scoffed, "What is tragic is your dis-concern for the woman aboard this ship, for your men's safety.  Why are you a pirate? What is it you hope to accomplish in stealing and occasionally beating the men on another dingy boat senseless?"

"That is none of your concern," he shot back.  "You are a vile woman, I told Jack that myself.  You care only for finery and the touch of a rich man!" 

Rose had had quite enough of Captain John's lip and had no immediate means of showing him so.  Biting her own cheek, she thought rather quickly, picking up a full goblet of water and throwing it straight into his face before running from the room in a fit of anger.  

John sputtered and wiped his face as the men stared at him, mouths agape in either horror or amusement, it was rather difficult to tell at this particular moment.  He stood and snatched up a cloth from the table, wiping his face and neck off before slicking his hair back.  He wondered exactly _how much_ water had been in that goblet. 

"Filthy wench!" He shouted after her. 

"Perhaps you should apologize," Jack piped up cheerfully.

"I shall not!  I have nothing to apologize for!" John said. 

"Captain, perhaps you consider that none of us have enraged a beautiful woman to the point of throwing water in our faces, or throwing anything else for that matter," one of the men, a middle-aged pirate called Ian, pointed out.

John blew out his cheeks and sat again.  "If she does not eat with us, or with me, she starves."  He raised up his own goblet, the one still full, and nodded his head.  "Cheers, gentlemen."

Jack and Rory exchanged helpless looks before lifting their own goblets.

Rose was above deck again, fuming and pacing.  She saw another ship in the distance, which was the only thing that brought her out of her anger at the Captain.  She approached the rail and squinted at it.  It was going in the opposite direction from them, retreating into the horizon.  Rose climbed the stairs to the wheel, staring out to get a better look at the wheel.  She inhaled sharply when she realized it was _Skaro._

They were not being followed.  They were being watched, and tracked.


	11. Chapter 11

Quite before the rest of the men were finished with morning meal, Rory went up upon to deck to check on Rose.  She was staring out at the sea, as though seeking for something.  When she heard his footsteps behind her, she turned and offered him a weak smile. 

"Hello, Rory," she said, turning back to the sea.

Rory looked along her line of sight.  "What are you looking for?" He asked.

" _Skaro_ was on the horizon," Rose said thoughtfully, "But they seemed to disappear."

"It has happened before.  They watch, Lady Tyler, especially the _Tardis."_

"Why the TARDIS?" She asked, furrowing her brows.  "It simply cannot be because of me."

Rory chuckled.  "Well, now, my Lady, it is partly you.  Our Captain is doing his best to protect you, do you realize this?"

Her mouth set into a firm line.  "Your Captain would like if I was taken and murdered.  I am sure it would please him greatly to watch as well."

"It would not," Rory retorted.  "You are someone that the Captain would greatly love to talk to. He would want to be close to you, but both of you are violent and cruel to each other."

Rose turned to him, her eyes blazing. "He is an odd one, that Captain.  Provoking me one moment, nursing me back to health in his bed the next, when he thought I'd caught cold.  He has the touch of a lover with the backhandedness of the filthy sodden _pirate_ that he is."

Rory felt his frustration building, not knowing how to force the two to speak on good terms.  "Pardon me, my good Lady, but it appears to me that you provoke him often, as he does to you."

She sighed heavily and leaned onto her elbows on the railing.  "Yes, I suppose I do.  I despise him."

"Do you?" Rory pressed.  "It is difficult to think so when you offer to give him your carving."

"I would have."  She said, "He was kind to me, his voice... That moment, Rory, his voice was so gentle.  It was almost as though he was not the man who had taken me captive, like he was a good man."

"He is a good man," Rory threw himself onto the opportunity to speak well of his Captain.  "John Smith is a very good man, Lady Tyler, and I think somewhere deep down inside yourself you can recognize that."

Rose let out a harsh laugh and shook her head.  "No, he is not.  He called me a wench, more than once, a vile woman.  His respect for me is minimal and I cannot respect him in return."

"Have you your carving?"

"Yes, the carving still exists."

"Perhaps it will be your act of kindness to bring him," Rory said, his voice hinting at the gift she had vaguely offered to him. 

Rose hummed in the back of her throat, deep in thought, considering this.  Her skirts blew against her legs in the sea breeze and she finally sighed.  "Perhaps."

Rory stood with Rose for a few moments more, then wandered off to below deck to take care of inventory something or other.  She stood alone, watching the sea.  It was peaceful, as much as she did not wish to admit it.  It was beautiful and ancient and modern, and she was a bit unnerved by how comfortable she was upon the ship.  

She looked down at the bruises on her wrists.  Yes, true, they were irritated, but she did not feel that they were hurting her.  John seemed terribly bothered by the fact that he had injured her at all, but she allowed it, allowed the thought that perhaps it did not make her angry that he was worried for her.  

He had held her hand.  No man had held her hand in such a casual fashion, and as much as she found it odd, a strange excitement coursed its way through her.  He was thrilling, and repulsing.  She forced herself to add the latter, not knowing what to think of him but knowing that all positive thoughts of him would turn her brain to mush.

She curled her fingers into her palm, remembering the touch of his work-rough palm against her delicate, scarless one.  She curled her hair behind her ear, trying to focus again on the lapping blue waves.

It may have been minutes and it may have been hours before another pair of footsteps approached her.  She ignored the man next to her, knowing perfectly well who it was.  He was still and looked as uncomfortable as she felt. 

"You spoke with Rory," he said.  It was not a question, and she knew that full well.  

"Am I no longer permitted to speak to the men aboard the ship?" She asked, her tone airy.  "Am I only allowed to speak with _you?"_

John's jaw was set at her tone and her words.  "Lady Tyler, I merely made a statement."

"Yes, an accusatory one," she replied.  "I did not think you forgot, Captain John, that I am a woman, as well as a Lady, a proper Lady."

He looked away from her, following her gaze out over the water.  "I know perfectly well that you are a Lady."

They were both silent for a moment, neither knowing quite what to say to follow that particular statement.  It was clear that she had been taken because she was a Lady, and to think anything else was foolish.  He knew that too, she was sure.  It was why he did not speak any longer, did not find any words to say. 

"Lady Tyler," he hesitated.  "You look lovely," he said softly, "And I apologize for calling you a wench."

Her lip twitched at the dejected sound in his voice.  "Thank you, Captain John."

She finished her sentence with a finality that told him that she was quite done with the conversation.  He shuffled about next to her.  It was clear that he had more to say but was biting his tongue, for what reason she was not sure.  Most likely he was going to say something rude and awful.  She blew out her cheeks and kicked her boot against the side of the boat.  

"You, perhaps know, that you did this to yourself," she said softly, "I cannot be worth that much money."

He was looking at her with new eyes, he pondered.  She was rather beautiful.  Her spirit touched him in a way that he had not expected and that he hated.  He despised that he was drawn to her and so instead, he pushed her.  

She finally turned her head to look curiously at him, and he blinked, realizing he'd been caught staring at her.  He cleared his throat and looked away.  "I'll be going," he said.  He turned on his heel and left her there, walking up the wheel, and leaving her blinking and feeling a bit dazed, though she could not quite put a reason on why. 

The day passed slowly, as many days do when one has nothing to do.  Rose found herself trying to keep herself busy, jogging laps around the ship, holding her skirt up to her knees, dismissing the scandal of it all, and sneaking things to eat as Rory was taking inventory again.  He never thought that they had enough to eat, apparently. 

Rose found that the other pirates were all misfits, and that was why John had chosen them.  None were particularly skillful, but they seemed to be clever and important and she could see why they had been taken on as a member of the crew. 

Free of her shackles, she found herself enjoying speaking to them as they were both quite normal human beings.  Jack enjoyed monopolizing her, taking her by the arm and walking her about the ship, throwing Captain John a hearty wink every time they passed him.

"Why do you keep doing that to him?" Rose asked, "He carries on by himself, we are just walking together."

Jack chuckled, more to himself than her.  "Yes, well, I think the man is jealous that I hold your arm and he does not."

"He is not," Rose protested.  "He would gladly fling me over the side of the ship if he did not wish to have four million more pounds under his belt."

"Perhaps.  But he would feel rather guilty after he did so."

Rose laughed in spite of herself and smiled up at him.  "I would certainly hope that he would feel guilty for such a act."

That night, Jack had decided that if one thing was in order, it was some good fun.  On their way to Scotland, it would be best to keep occupied.  He fetched two of a sort of fiddle, a very, very old lute, and a bassoon.

"Where did you get these?" Rose asked giddily. 

"We stole them, of course!" Jack cried, thrusting a fiddle at Rory.  He caught it and scrambled off to the upper deck.  Jack smiled at her, "You forget that we are pirates!"

The dancing began before the sun set, Jack swinging Rose about in his arms and the rest of the men drinking rum, enjoying themselves immensely.  Rose found herself having a genuinely nice time, surprised herself at the attitude she was having at the event. 

Lanterns were lit as the sun set and the men began to play a game of passing Rose between them as they danced.  All were dreadfully respectful and taught her the dances they did, poorer for certain, dances her mother would drop dead before doing, but Rose found that they were far more enjoyable then the stodgy, stiff dancing they did in the ballrooms and palaces of England.  She laughed and the music raged on, slightly out of tune but beautiful all the same, because the men were so passionate about enjoying themselves. 

John sat below deck, writing and ignoring the part of sorts that had been happening above him.  He had been doing fine, had heard Rose's tinkling laughter and all of a sudden had had trouble focusing.  He put down his quill and rested his forehead in his hand. 

What was this woman doing to him?  He barely knew her and yet she consumed his every thought.   He had been right; she was the fire and he was the storm, but he knew that he would be burned to death by her before the storm would rage.

Loud singing sounded above him and he could hear the words through the deck. 

_"And drink to the health of his favorite lass! Viva La Company!"_

"I drink to Lady Tyler!" One man shouted, and John heard her laugh again.

"Rory drinks to Amelia Pond!" Jack nearly screamed, and the rest of the men cheered loudly.  John found himself smiling at that.

Before he could think about the repercussions of what he was about to do, he stood up and walked himself right up to the deck.  The lanterns lit through ambiance throughout the space, light shining and Rose's skirts twirling as she danced.  Her face was flushed and the light flickered across her chest, making him swallow harshly. 

He heaved a heavy sigh, not able to do anything else really, under all the circumstances.  She was lovely. 

"Ah, Captain John!" Jack swung Rose about by her hand, "Join us!"  At the same moment Rose fell into his arms and stumbled, her forehead falling against his shoulder.  He caught her on instinct, his arms around her back.  She grasped his shoulders and laughed breathlessly as she pulled away to look him in the face. 

It seemed the night had changed her drastically, for her eyes filled with no hatred for him as she looked at him.  "Hello," she said brightly, breathing a bit heavily. 

"Hello," he replied.

"Now we dance!" Jack shouted, his arms up in the air. 

The men, including John, instructed Rose in a dance that including the passing of her around with all of them.  She found, oddly, that when John's hand touched her back she felt a spark travel up her spine. 

"One, two, three!" The men shouted.  "When the count lands to three, that man's woman she'll be!"

"One!" Rose was spinning almost out of control, but the men held her steady.  

"Two!" She passed back Jack and Ian.  She didn't see a nod pass between them as Ian spun her away from himself, her skirts flaring about just above the knee.

"Three!" The final shout, "This man's woman she be!"

Rose had found herself in John's arms again, held in a more familiar position of that of a waltz.  They stared at each other in shock, the touch of the other person in a non-menacing was something that surprised the both of them greatly.

"She is his for the dance," Rory announced, and played a much slower song on his fiddle, the other men playing their instruments following his lead.

The pirates drunkenly pretended to waltz with each other, laughing and oblivious to the scene unfolding before them.

John had adjusted his hold on her, bringing her marginally closer to himself.  She looked up into his face, seeing him no longer as her captor, though she could not figure out quite why.  Her hand slid along the fabric at his shoulder and he released a sharp intake of breath.  

"I- I am sorry that I threw water in your face, this morning," she said softly, so softly that the other men playing the instruments.

He swallowed.  "I accept your apology, Lady Tyler."

Their dance maintained its steadiness, the movements smooth and precise.  They were silent, but somehow could not stop watching each other.  There was something in the other's eyes that could not be ignored, but even as they reveled in it, both of them fought nearly violently against it in their own minds.

"You are someone I never wished to meet," he admitted.  "But you are not like other ladies of the court, with a stick up their rear."

She huffed out a quiet laugh.  "I suppose it is because I am young," she replied, "Nothing more than simply that."

He blew out his cheeks, "Yes, you are young."

It was an odd series of events that neither of them could pretend to understand, which led to John leaning forward and pressing his forehead to hers, his eyes slipping closed.  She did not move from him, her hand sliding to touch the hair at the nape of his neck. 

He held her with the grip of an unsure man, not quite positive if he was allowed to touch her like this.  He had no right to want to, he knew that much, but he could not stop himself, now that he had started.

Jack smiled widely at Rory, who had to give him a grin in agreement.  Perhaps it would not be quite so difficult to get them to fall into one another's arms.  John adjusted his grip on her until her torso was pressed against his.  She breathed out a gentle sigh and shifted so their foreheads were no longer touching and tucked her head in the crook of his shoulder.  He leaned his cheek against her. 

"Perhaps I was wrong about you, Captain John," she whispered.

"Perhaps we both were," he replied. 

Only a few minutes passed before she removed her hand from his and unwound her other from around his neck.  "I think it must be time to lock in," she smiled softly, her voice tired.

He fought down the disappointment that threatened to crush him and released her.  "I will be down presently to secure you," he said, placing the steely quality back in his voice.  "I must speak with the men."

Spurred by instinct and knowing he would not mention it the day next, Rose ran her fingers along his jaw and stood up on her toes to press a lingering kiss to his cheek.  "Goodnight, then," she whispered, and disappeared from his arms and the deck. 

He felt cold without her and had to right himself properly.  Before he could compose himself fully, Jack walked up to him and slapped him on the back.

"You have won her?"

"No, Jack," John scrubbed his hand over his face, touching gently where she had kissed him.  He looked after where she had gone.  "But perhaps she does not see me as an evil man as she once did."


	12. Chapter 12

She was not sure what had brought her to this turn of events.  It was a moment on the deck that she had not anticipated, John being kind, her full of a hard drink she had never consumed before.  It had been, dare she say it, a night she would not learn to regret.

He was not quite as horrible as she had originally thought.  Perhaps his past was troubled?  She went back to the cabin and shut herself in, changing into the men's clothes that had dried from her tryst in the rain the day before.  They were better for sleeping in, she decided, and she could wear the dress again in the morning.  She was eternally grateful that Jack had bought it for her in France; even if it was not as luxurious as other dresses she had worn before, she decided it was rather worth it to have the familiarity of the skirts brushing her legs. 

She brushed her hair out slowly, hoping that John would not enter for at least a few minutes more.  She enjoyed the brief moments to herself in the cabin, especially after what had just transpired on the deck. She surely could not let it happen again.  He had caught her vulnerable and nothing more.  He meant nothing to her, and she meant nothing to him.  All in all, it was very simple.  He was her captor and she the captive, awaiting the payable ransom.

Worrying her bottom lip, she wondered, where exactly, he planned to get four million pounds from.  He had said that after they stopped in Scotland they were going out into the open sea.  Once there, they would not see another port for ages and ages.  Even if her family managed to scrounge up the money, they would have no way of getting it to her. 

She sat heavily on the end of the bed, the mattress bouncing softly beneath her.  Her poor mother.  The last time she had seen her she was distraught on the deck, crumpled in a heap of skirts.  She did not deserve the pain she was being put through. 

It was pain John had caused, and with her eyes cleared, her mind no longer muffled by alcohol, she could see that.  He was a cruel man, despite how he had held her as they danced on the deck.  It had been all Jack's doing, trying to force them together, a perpetual matchmaker.  She set her jaw.  This could not continue.  Any infatuation that she had felt for the Captain just moments before had to be vanquished, romantic inquiries no longer entering her mind.  It was foolish, she knew. 

A man had never spoken to her in such a soft tone, held her as if she were more than just a price, which was odd, considering he was asking a price for her at that very moment.  She blew out her cheeks and stood and began pacing.  This was an idiot's game, to become attached to a bloody _pirate._

At that moment, John entered the cabin, steely gaze back in place firmly on his features. She had no doubt that his thoughts had been along the same line as hers.  He had his hands clasped together in front of him.  

"I trust you are ready?" He asked, formality returned as well. 

"Yes," Rose lifted her chin, her earlier defiance back in her voice.  She folded up the frock Jack had purchased and walked into the cell, setting the dress down in the corner and sitting up on the mat, looking expectantly at him. 

He sighed and shut the cell door, locking it with a finality that startled even her.  She watched his Adam's apple bob in a heavy swallow as he watched her, his eyes never leaving hers. He broke her gaze a few seconds later, and as he did, she saw a flash of something in his eyes that she had observed on the deck.  He had emotions, she knew that now, and a part of her wanted to be the one to help bring him back from the brink he was most certainly standing upon.  Metaphorically, he was on the plank of his great ship, standing on the precipice of something simultaneously horrible and wonderful.  It was impossible to gaze upon, even more impossible to forget. 

What she saw in his eyes was something akin to tender affection, something no man had ever held for her.  Unlike Mr. Saxon, his gaze made her shiver in a pleasant way, one that forced her to demand more from him even though she could not do so.  He was something dangerous, but not to her.  He would not hurt her, and she would give him no reason to. 

She rubbed her wrists in a subconscious motion, reminiscent of the shackles that had bound her wrists until a day previous.  His eyes were drawn to the movement as he reached to pull the curtain shut.  

"I am sorry," he said in a rushed voice, as though he had not anticipated saying anything at all, but the words had burst forth from him without his knowledge.  "I have never seen shackles such as those used on a woman; your skin is more delicate."

She glanced down at her hands.  "Yes, I suppose it is," she said thoughtfully.  "You knew not, Captain John, but perhaps on future endeavors you would do well to remember such a thing."

He pursed his lips.  "I do not wish to take captives, Lady Tyler, it is certainly not at the forefront of my mind."

"Isn't it?  How would I sit here in this very cell if you did not plan on taking any more captives." Rose found her mouth escaping her as she frantically tried to push the Captain away.  She did not want him close, could not have him close.  It was difficult, nearly hurt her heart to do so, though she was not sure why.  "I know I be but the second, but you must surely expect more."

He sighed again, as though this was causing him some sort of physical pain.  "Lady Tyler, I never plan on captives, but when opportunity strikes," he shrugged, "Although I doubt I will ever again have a captive so beautiful."

Upon saying those words, he quickly shut the curtain, closing her off from himself properly for the night.  She sighed and laid back on the mat.  Perhaps it was best, that they merely fought.  She could bring up a boiling hatred for him if need be and was therefore resigned to do so.

****

_"Skaro!"_

Rose sat bolt upright, her heart pounding wildly in her chest.  She heard the pounding of footsteps on the deck above her and in the hall outside John's quarters.  She could not see for the curtain in her way but heard John rustling about outside her cell. 

"Lady Tyler, get dressed!" He shouted as though she were not five feet from him.  

She scrambled to her feet and changed swiftly, back into the dress she had been wearing mere hours before.  It was clear that it was the middle of the night, the light of dawn not yet seeking to break through.  Once dressed, she waited at the door of her cell, jumping on the balls of her feet a bit, the boots bending against the arch of her foot.  

John tore the curtain back and unlocked the door to her cells with hands that appeared to be shaking.  He flung the door open with too much force and grabbed her wrist, pulling her from the cell and dragging her along behind him.  She cried out and he did not spare her even an apologetic glance as he slammed the door that had been opened.  He locked it and turned to where Rory and Jack were standing. 

"When did you-" Rose started.

"We arrived when some pirates from _Skaro_ jumped on board," Jack hissed lowly, "With any luck, they will not search for you in here."

Rose felt herself start breathing heavily, feeling a dark fear creep over her.  "Oh," she said softly.  "They are here only for me?"

"Of course," Rory said, "Now get back and be quiet."

John took her by the arm and led her back towards the bed.  He moved so she was behind him and pulled out his sword with his right hand, brandishing it, preparing.  She seemed to forget what she had been pondering the night before, her hand coming up to clutch his shoulder.  

The only sound in the room was the four of them breathing and the sound of the men fighting off the _Skaro_ pirates up on the deck.  There was a sound of a door bursting open, and Rose pressed closer to John, knowing that she felt safer with him than she would any man on _Skaro._ He reached his free hand behind himself but when his fingers connected with her leg be brought them back quickly to his side.

She blushed hotly at the touch but had little time to focus on the fact of what had happened.  Another burst, a cry from the men, and she heard feet shuffling outside their door.  Rory and Jack prepared themselves, raising their swords up.  

The door was kicked in and Rory, Jack and John all pounced.  They were outnumbered, there were five men to John's three, and much larger.  They looked almost mechanical, massive and strong as steel.  One of the _Skaro_ pirates threw Rory into the bars of the cell, knocking him unconscious. Rose lifted her hands to her mouth in shock but made not a sound.  

Jack and John fought valiantly, taking out two of the men before Jack was incapacitated, collapsing when he was hit over the head with a pistol.  John, sensing he was vastly outnumbered and could not call any more men, he went to Rose's side and pulled her to his chest, holding out his sword in a defensive motion. 

Rose collapsed against him willingly, one of her arms wrapping around his waist.  His heart was hammering wildly in his chest, she could hear it in through the fabric of his shirt. 

"You will not touch her," John growled, "This is unheard of, she is not your captive."

"Let me through," the voice of an older man sounded and the other pirates moved to the side, letting the man through.  He was wrinkled but not decrepit, looking cruel with a scowl on his face.  Rose fought a gasp: she knew exactly who this man was.

Davros.

"Oh, the Captain of the _Tardis_ has found a woman to claim his rebel heart," Davros crooned, and his men laughed, a wicked sound that made Rose want to burrow close to John and never leave.  It was an odd feeling she did not have the time to explore. 

"Quiet!" John snarled, tightening his grip on Rose.

"Oh, give up, Captain John," Davros rolled his eyes, limping closer.  "We can give you back to your parents, Lady Tyler."

She did not reply, but held Davros's gaze.  He stared back at her, a look of triumph on his face.  

"She is staying here, and that is final," John said, "This is not a matter up for discussion."

"I'm afraid it is," Davros said, "You might recall from when you were a proper pirate, Captain John, but we do not discuss.  We _take!"_

Davros signaled to his men and one of them lunged forward, stabbing John in the side.  John cried out but his grip tightened on her instead of loosening.  His head fell forward onto her shoulder and she cried out, clutching at his waist.  When the pirate removed his sword from John's side, he collapsed onto the bed.  

"No!"  Rose moved to stand over him, staring down at his pale face, drawn into a grimace.  Before she could call out for help, Davros himself knocked her unconscious and seeing John laying there in pain was the last thing she knew.  

John woke several hours later to one of his men tending his wounds, Jack and Rory standing next to the bed, looking somber and mournful.

"Where is she?" He croaked out. "Where is Lady Tyler?"

Jack seemed afraid to meet his Captain's gaze.  "They took her.  Many of our men were wounded in the process."

Rory cleared his throat.   "We have already made a decision to follow _Skaro_ as close as we can deem safe," he said, "Do you agree with this decision?"

"Yes, of course," John tried to sit up but the three men in the room shouted as he did so.  He slumped back down against the pillow and grimaced.  "She needs to be safe."

Jack let out a shuddering sigh, "This is no longer about the money, is it?"

John shook his head and looked away, up at the ceiling.  "No."

Rory approached the Captain and held out his hand.  "This was found next to your bed."

John accepted the piece from Rory's hand and choked on the odd urge to let out tears he had not let fall for years.  In his hand lay the little rose that she had carved from wood on a day that seemed so long ago. 


	13. Chapter 13

When he was allowed to stand two days later, John was forced to hobble about on a crutch that was ancient, found by Jack in an odd room.  "Really, I have no idea where you got this," he told John as he handed him the crutch, "If I didn't know better I'd think that this ship was bigger on the inside."

The Captain hadn't been able to force a whole smile at that, but had taken the crutch with a mumble of thanks.  He had gone straight up on the deck once Rory had deemed him able to do so.  Skaro was farther ahead than he felt comfortable with, but they were forced to follow at such a distance because of how many of the men were injured.  Several were still below deck, recovering, and technically speaking, John should have been there with them, recovering from the stab wound, but his urge to see the other ship was insurmountable.  Rory had 'allowed it', but he had not agreed with the situation. 

Rory and Jack exchanged looks, feeling slightly guilty for pushing John and Rose closer together when she was so cruelly ripped from him.  It was incredibly unfair, for the one woman who he had grown attached to, in his own strange way, to be taken once he found her.

John stared at the boat as though he could bring it back by sheer will, bring _her_ back by sheer will.  He was not sure when the change had occurred, when he had found Lady Tyler to be less despicable than he had originally thought, and when she had stopped fearing him.  It was customary, of course, that a captive fear her captor, and she frustratingly fought him at every turn, turning every encounter into an altercation.

She was something he had never seen before.  She did not try to seduce him, did not fear him, she simply existed in the same space as him, in a different social caste, but he held her as an equal.  She had danced with him that night as though he were simply a man at one of the parties her family attended as she searched for a man's hand in marriage. 

His heart clenched and he forced his mind to banish the thought.  It was ludicrous, this attraction to a woman he could certainly never have, whether he saved her or not.  She was gone, for certain, and he would have to accept that once he received the money he would return Rose to her posh life and her family, leaving back to the sea to never lay eyes upon her again.

The very notion of that was enough to make him feel a bit ill.  He felt something for her, of course he did, enough to not wish to release her from his sight or from his ship, but he knew that was something she would never do or want.

  
He remembered the kiss on his cheek, a touch he had longed for, perhaps not from her, but once he had it from her, only wanted it from her for the rest of his days.  His fingers brushed over the skin where her lips had touched absent mindedly, and he finally settled on staring after the other ship more, having nothing else to want.

Jack watched the Captain for a few moments before making the decision to approach the man who was mourning for what he had not yet lost.  He was borderlining on pining, Jack decided.  He stood next to him, silent, his hands clasped behind his back, waiting for something to say that would not hurt him any more. 

"Do you seek the four million pounds any longer?" He asked, trying to keep his voice steady and careful, not looking over at the Captain as he said the words.

He scrubbed the hand not on his crutch across his face.  "I know not," he admitted on a sigh, "There are things I want now, things I should not want, of course."  He made an odd sound in the back of his throat.  "Things a pirate should not want for a lady, from a lady."

"You seek her love."  It was not a question, and it was not even a statement.  It was simply a fact that he was daring John to refute.

He furrowed his brows, "I don't recall ever saying that, really," he said in a scolding voice.  "But she is extraordinary."

"Not a filthy wench?" Jack's voice held a teasing note and John's lip twitched with it, and he nodded slightly.

"Yes, I suppose that was an incorrect assumption."  His smile faded.  "What do you think they are doing with her?" He asked in a small voice.

"I do not pretend to know," Jack replied cautiously, "But _Skaro_ , sir, they stop at no means, you know that as well as I, do you not?"

John nodded mutely, at a loss for words that would properly convey the anguish that this particular statement made him feel.  

"Now, when the men are healed, we will attack again.  If we are lucky, they will dock in Scotland, and we can follow them down."  Jack suggested helpfully, doing his best as first mate to remain optimistic. 

"They know we are following, Jack, they would not risk such a foolish move." John replied, "Why would they risk their prisoner and possibly their lives?  They know we are angered by what they have done."

"They very well might."

John was quiet for several minutes, simply staring at the other ship.  He barely felt the wind of the ocean or the sound of his shirt rippling against his skin in the breeze.  He was fixated on a rescue he could not conduct.  She was at the forefront of his mind, where she was on the ship, where he needed to break in, if he could save her easily. 

"She does not come up on deck."

"I doubt they permit her, sir.  Davros is most likely going to question her about you, and I think that is why she does not come.  If they know we are following, she will not be able to gaze over at you as you pretend to gaze at her."

He scoffed and turned from the other ship.  "Come now, Jack, she would not gaze.  Stare, perhaps, to scare me with her eyes, get me to save her, drag her back here, but never gaze."

"You think I am deaf, dumb and blind!" Jack cried.  "You brought her against your chest when she was taken, and she fought you not!"

"Because she was in danger!"

"Because now that she has been with you she fears being without you!" Jack shouted back, clenching his fists and staring at his friend's back.  Neither of them said anything for what felt like eons, until Jack said softly, "Now, what is it that troubles you now?"

John turned back, blinking back unbidden tears.  "The night she was taken," he said softly, "I had no nightmares."

*****

Rose woke up in what felt like a wooden box, only larger.  Her hands were bound tightly with what appeared to be old rags or sheets, and a gag was tied into her mouth.  She was curled on her side, wherever she was, as though she had been thrown there without even so much as a second thought.  It was too dark to see anything about herself, and she tried to fight her bonds, but an expert man had tied them, the knots precise and biting into her skin when she moved the wrong way. 

She sat up, in a panic.  John had been stabbed.  Where was he?  Where was she?

As if in answer to her question, light flooded her vision as a door opened, and Davros stood over her, an evil old man that she cowered from.  She had a feeling that if she used the same lip she had with Captain John, the outcome would not be nearly so favorable. 

"Welcome to _Skaro_ , Lady Tyler.  I apologize I could not bring your lover on board, but he would only fight me."

Rose had the thought, slow to arrive in her mind, that she should say that Captain John was in fact, not her lover, but that seemed to be the least of her concerns at the moment.  She watched Davros earnestly, waiting for him to speak more, since she could not.  

"If you have not guessed before, I've put you in a cupboard," he grinned, an evil, ugly smile full of teeth that were rotting.  "There would be a way to get out, of course, but you must answer a few questions for me."

Rose nodded weakly, unable to say anything.  Taking her consent, Davros removed the gag from her mouth and stepped back again, in the doorway, blocking any hope of escape. 

"In your time in Captain John's bed, what did you learn about his past?" Davros asked, his accent thick with hatred when he said John's name.

Rose cleared her throat, but it came out more as a choke, to test her voice.  She forced words to come out then, for she had to, had to say _something_.  "Captain John and I were not coupled in the way you believe us to be."

"We have been watching you for longer than you would wish to believe, Lady Tyler," Davros said, glaring at her, "We saw you dance on the deck, saw you disappear and him soon thereafter.  You were in his quarters."

"Inside the _cell,_ " Rose said with emphasis.  "I know nothing of Captain John's past, he is a closed book to me and everyone else on the ship.  Why must you know the life he lived before?"

Davros laughed wickedly, "Because, Lady Tyler, there was an incident that occurred.  Your pirate captain was not quite so generous in the sparing of lives not long ago.  Tragedy struck, his parents dead.  He has refused to care for anything since, saving lives instead of taking them, but taking other things to compensate, to maintain his reputation.  And now, he has found something to care for.  And now I have it."

Rose shivered and backed farther into the cupboard.  "We only argued, he told me nothing.  We abused each other with our words and found that-"

"A spark lay between you!" Davros cut her off.  "Of course, a woman with fire would catch the eye of Captain John."

Rose shrunk back, not wishing to admit anything that had happened about the feelings she had discovered for him, feelings she had never held for another man.  He was a pirate, and of course, she could not do anything to pursue those feelings, to begin a courting process.  She swallowed heavily. 

"Of course," he said, his voice dripping with an irony that made her sick.  "You will never be able to fall into your lover's arms, and he will never accept you quite in the way you think he will," Davros forced a grimacing pout that looked vile but she refused to retreat into her corner anymore.  "Now," he continued, "Where does your dear Captain keep his inheritance?"

Rose looked at him curiously.  "Inheritance?" She asked, "He has an inheritance?"

"You do not know of it?" He asked, furrowing his brows.

She shook her head.  "No, I do not."

Davros seemed incredibly confused and angered by this, his face twisting into a wretched snarl.  "Your ignorance will not allow you to return to the _Tardis_ ," He said harshly.

Her gaze fell. "I know," she said.  

Davros  shoved the gag back in her mouth and then retreated from the cupboard, keeping his eyes trained on her before he shut the door and locked it behind himself.  She hung her head in the darkness, resigning herself to the fact that this was now what her life would consist of.  Now she was glad that she had been with the pirates on the _Tardis_ first, and wished she could have stayed with them.  

Her stomach growled at her, protesting the lack of food, and she curled in on herself to try and fall back asleep.


	14. Chapter 14

Days passed without word from _Skaro_ , though it was clear that they knew that the _Tardis_ was following them. Of course, it would be ridiculous for them not to know.  

Rose knew little over those days, did not see daylight, did not eat, and did not drink.  She merely slept and felt her body grow weaker and weaker.  She did not know how long had passed when Davros threw open her cupboard door and set a cup of water down on the floor without removing her gag.  She was thirsty enough to manage it, taking sips and making a valiant effort to not fall unconscious.

Back on the _Tardis_ , the men were still recovering, and John was still healing from the stab wound that had cut deeper than originally thought but was not wounding any vital organs.  Jack made him lie down more, but he was on his feet more often then not, pacing and planning.  His mind was occupied with one Lady Tyler and her conditions.  There were eyes on the ship day and night and there were no sightings of her above deck, meaning she was being kept below, where no one could find her or see her. 

He waited for some signal.   _Skaro_ was beginning to travel faster, the movements necessary for passing Scotland and going into the open sea, leaving behind any civilization and trying to leave behind the _Tardis_ as well.  John ordered them to push the ship to its limits; they would not lose her.  

Jack was unnerved by the speed of the ship, as the _Tardis_ was often a cruising vessel, but the ship seemed to handle it well, as though it itself wanted to see Lady Tyler back on the deck and safe.  The water rushed past, sending them plummeting into the unknown.  John was not to be bothered with navigation, only stared after the ship and steered them closer as the men healed. 

"Captain!" A voice finally sounded from on deck while the Captain was resting below.  The very call of his title in such a forceful manner shot him to his feet, wincing slightly in pain, and stumbling above deck, where Rory was staring at _Skaro._

"What is it?" John asked, throwing his crutch to the side and running up the stairs to the ship's wheel, which Rory was standing next to.

"It's them, they're above deck."

John surged towards the rail of the ship closest to _Skaro_ and leaned against it, his fingernails biting into the wood in anger he was trying to hide.  Davros stood with an arm on Rose's.  Her hands were tied with what appeared to be pieces of sheet, a gag cutting into her cheeks.  She looked beautiful and decrepit all at the same time.  She had obviously not eaten, had circles under her eyes, and looked as though she was in the beginning stages of losing too much weight. 

Despite the urge he felt to shout at the other men, he knew it would do him no good to get terribly emotional and took several deep, cleansing breaths, trying to quell his fury.  He set his jaw and swallowed, hard, as Rose's eyes lifted to meet his. 

"What have you done to the Lady?" John shouted across the expanse, fighting to keep his voice at a neutral tone.

"We have been interrogating her," Davros shouted back, and the men snickered before he continued on, "You did not tell your lady love much, Captain John, I'm afraid she was rather useless."

"There was no need for you to capture her!" Jack replied from where he had appeared at John's side. 

Davros laughed, "Have you seen how much the Lady is worth?  Her family is willing to pay much for her head, I know that you are aware of that much, at least, are you not, Captain?"

John did not reply for a moment, fixating on the way Rose was sagging from dehydration and fatigue.  "Has she had water to drink?"

"I rather think she hasn't," Davros replied, "Shall we give her some?"

The men laughed heartily and several of them grasped her by the arms, pulling her across the deck to where a plank was being extended.  John felt his eyes widen in shock.  "Duel me like a man, Davros!" 

"Fine!" Davros said, and the men stopped, still holding onto Rose but no longer moving her.  "Come across, Captain John.  If you can defeat me in the time it takes for Lady Tyler to render herself unconscious, you may claim her and take her back to your ship.  Do we have a deal?"

John nodded.  "Yes, Davros."

"John, your side!" 

John turned on Jack, his eyes blazing, but not with anger for his friend.   "My side matters not, Jack, you know that best of all.  I am on the mend, Lady Tyler is not."

He had to admit that he had never seen John like this, especially when women were involved, so he simply swallowed and nodded, steering the ship dangerously close to _Skaro_ so John could jump aboard.

John did so with ease and without looking back, bending his knees and brandishing his sword at Davros, who was nonchalantly pulling out his own blade.  "I think you will find I grow tired of games," he said, fingering the blade of the sword.  "You would do well to pass out soon, Lady Tyler, I do not have time for this."  He looked back to John, his lips quirking up in a crooked smile. "Perhaps we should up the stakes.  Place her on the plank.  When she falls from there the duel ends."

"No," John replied, "That was not the arrangement agreed upon, she will not die because of this."

He finally turned to meet Rose's gaze.  He had never seen her so void of light, her fire gone out under whatever she had gone through underneath his very feet, below deck of this very ship.  He offered her what he hoped was a look of reassurance and turned his attention back to Davros, who seemed to be considering.

Davros shrugged finally.  "Pirate," he said, and gestured to his men.  Some of them blocked John's path, keeping him from seeing Rose as they led her to stand upon the plank.  He heard her whimper and wondered if it was fear or pain, his stomach turning at the idea of either. 

Best to make things quick, he thought to himself, and lunged at Davros with his sword.  The other man, though older, knew much about swordplay, and stopped John's surprising attack with wide eyes.

"You have grown since the last time we battled, Captain John," he said, his voice filled with a sort of teasing shock.  "But I know that is not for you fighting other people, oh, no, you are much too good for that, are you not?"

He set his jaw, refusing to answer the vile man, to lower himself to the questions he was being asked.  He stood a step forward and swung again, and it was met with the same amount of ease as the last, Davros stepping forward as well to block it.

"Well, if we're going to fight," John said, as blow after blow began to fall, "We might as well _fight_!"

John was an enthusiastic opponent, he was young and he had something to fight for, both terrifying prospects to a man like Davros.  The moment the younger man had cornered him on his own ship he turned to put John in the same corner.

They were well matched, foes of the highest order, knowing their place was always against the other and never with.  Ever. 

"Oh, did your parents fight like this, Captain John?  Tell me again how they died!"

John cried out and swung his sword blindingly fast, slicing through Davros's jacket.  The other man, though not wounded, made an indignant sound, spinning to try and catch John's nonwounded side.  

He was fast though, the pain starting to build where he had been stabbed, but he could not let that affect how this was going.  He lunged forward, the tip of his blade almost catching Davros in the stomach.  In turn, he almost lost his hand but was able to pull it away in time, his heart pounding at how close he had come to a life with a hook.  

All of the movements became blurred, the sound of metal upon metal the only one heard, the pirates of the _Tardis_ crowded against the railing of their ship, the ones on _Skaro_ watching the battle and paying little attention to their captive.

She was feeling sick.  She felt so sick.  Dizzy, dizzy.  Her world tilted, and she tried to stay upright.  She had not stood for this long in a very long time, and the very thought of it was something that made her want to lay down, but the plank was not long enough to allow that.  Besides, she was not sure she could manage it without slipping off, as her hands were bound. 

Watching John was the only thing that kept her alert.  He was angry that she had been taken, she could see it in his face.  There was more openness in his eyes than she had ever seen, and she bit the gag in anguish, wishing for the world that she could go to him.  

Her vision started to cloud and she tried to force it back, her knees buckling slightly.  So many men were there, on the ship, she would never be able to get through them all.  Blood was seeping from John's shirt, she could see it, even through the black of it, shining like it was wet with water.

She wavered, wanting to fix it, knowing she couldn't, knowing she didn't even know how to fix it, but as she leaned forward, tried to take a step, it because very clear that her legs were weaker than she originally thought and she fell unconscious, falling from the plank and into the ocean below.

 _Splash_.

John turned his head quickly before returning to Davros, striking him harshly with the flat of his sword across the face.  Davros cried out and fell to the ground, and John ran as fast as he could to the end of the boat.  The other men started to follow him, but as John was smaller, it was easier for him to dodge them.  He ran off the plank, diving into the water after Rose. 

Jack gasped audibly, turning to Rory with a shocked look on his face.  "His side!" He shouted.  Rory gritted his teeth and watched the water where John had disappeared. 

"Well, come on!" Rory finally said, "We've got to get ready to pull them up!"

John opened his eyes nearly instantly after plunging into the sea.  He saw her sinking and propelled himself downwards to grasp her around the waist.  Luckily her skirts were not heavy and he was able to kick his feet to bring them both to the surface.  The men of _Skaro_ were beginning to jump in after him, and he forced himself to go faster, only able to use one arm.

The _Tardis_ pirates were shouting and fighting to lower a boat for John and Rose, where it came from Jack swore he would never understand, but as it were John made it to the boat without having to fight off many of the other pirates.  As it came about, it seemed that their larger almost mechanical size hindered them in the water.

John hurtled Rose over the side of the boat and crawled in after her, tugging on the rope to be pulled up.  He tore off her gag and wrist bindings with no trouble at all, so frantic was he to release her.  Panting heavily, he sat back from her and took one of her clammy, fragile hands in his.  He rested his ear to her chest, his heart thumping madly with the horrible anticipation as the boat lurched and was begun to pull up.  The men in the sea shouted curses up at John, but he could only hear silence.  Though her heart was beating, he was close to her, and found that she was not breathing.


	15. Chapter 15

He immediately found himself panicking, bringing his hands up to begin pressing against her chest, hoping to dislodge some of the water from her lungs that she had surely inhaled some of the ocean's water.  The boat began to lift onto the main ship, however, John did not notice this, so obsessed was he with saving her.  He pressed harder and consistently, then leaned over to open her mouth with his fingers and give her the kiss of life.  He breathed air into her lungs, praying hope against hope that she would awaken under the ministrations he was giving her. 

She was not responding.  He sat back and ran his fingers across her clammy forehead before going back to press against her chest repeatedly.  

They brought the boat onto the ship, where Jack pushed John off of Rose, pulling her from the smaller boat himself.  "You are far too emotional to be doing this yourself!"

"I am not emotional!" John shouted in return, but Rory was already holding him at bay, keeping him from closing in on Jack and Rose.

Jack was far more efficient in his efforts to save Rose, his touch firm and clinical, surprising for a man such as Jack Harkness, when she suddenly coughed.  John thought it was the most beautiful sound he had heard in his life, and he collapsed to the deck in relief.

"Welcome back, Lady Tyler," Jack said softly.  

Rose's eyes opened slowly, and she gazed up at Jack through a bleary haze.  She smiled softly, the ocean breeze trying its best to ruffle her wet hair.  "Did the Captain win?" She whispered, her voice hoarse.

"Would you like to see him?" Jack asked cautiously, unsure as to how she would respond with seeing her original captor again.  Although he had seen an uncanny connection develop between them, it was likely that she was given airs about him on _Skaro_  and would not wish to speak to him any longer. 

"Yes," She replied, softly.  

John made his way to her side as Jack retreated and the men watched them from afar, holding their breath.  He took her hand in his, looking down into her face.  "Hello, Lady Tyler."

A weak smile crawled across her face and she reached up her opposite hand to trail her fingers across his cheek.  "I was wrong about you," she said softly.  "You are not evil.  You are not cruel."

Hearing the words denouncing every thought he had had of himself for the past years brought tears to his eyes.  He pressed a kiss to the knuckles of the hand he held in his.  "And you are not a filthy wench."

She laughed then, which turned into a slight cough, and he helped her to sit up.  Driven on instinct alone, she leaned forward to lean against him, cheek on his shoulder, nose pressed to his neck.  Her free arm moved from his cheek to wrap loosely around him with all the strength she could manage, and he sighed, returning her embrace.  He released her other hand to bring her fully against himself, an action that surely her family would disapprove of, and she would have, too, had she not been a very different woman. 

"Captain, I do hate to interrupt, but although we have set sail again, _Skaro_ still follows."

John pulled back from Rose just enough to bend down and lift her into his arms, wincing only slightly at the pain in his side as he rose to his feet.  "I will take Lady Tyler to get settled into warm clothing and get some food into her.  Can one of the men manage bringing food and drink to my quarters?"

"Of course, sir," Jack nodded, "But what of the ship?"

"For now, Jack, you are left in charge."

Jack nodded curtly and began barking orders, sending a man below deck to fetch food and drink and ordering about the rest, telling them to be at the ready.  All the men had grown fond of Lady Tyler and were certainly willing to protect her by any means.  Some men had their swords already drawn, prepared to fight any pirates who dared to jump aboard the ship.

Although John was on edge at the prospect of Davros or any of his men returning to his ship, he carried Rose with a single minded purpose.  The damage Davros had done to her in only a few days was incredible and she would not recover quickly.  

He made his way down to his quarters.  She sat, still dripping wet as he, on the edge of the bed.  He handed her a long nightshirt without question and retrieved new clothes for his own.  

"Once you are changed, straight into bed with you," he ordered.  "I will return in but a moment.  Do you need help?"

Rose tested reaching her hands behind her, a motion they had not completed since she had been on the _Tardis_ the first time.  Considering they still worked, she shook her head.  "I think I should be quite alright, thank you."

"Of course," John said, and disappeared from the room.

The formality they were engaging in was nearly alarming to him.  Even when they had fought and argued, they had never been so formal, straightforward in a nonthreatening way.  As much as he wished to stride back into his quarters and take her into a gripping hug that she would be hard pressed to squirm away from, he knew he could not.

Once changed, he knocked on the door and at her call allowed himself entrance.  She sat back against the pillows, her eyes rimmed with darkness.  Unable to resist the urge to go to her, to pulled a chair to her bedside and sat there, vigilant and prepared to guard her all night, to hell with the pirates on the ship that was too close to their own.  She smiled at him again, and he wondered what exactly he had done to earn that smile. 

"You jumped in," She said simply, "When I fell."

"Yes," he replied automatically, knowing that there was no other response that he could make that was so accurate as to say "I could not let you fall."

She grinned at that, a full one that he had not yet seen but bathed her whole face in light.  She reached her hand for his and he took it greedily.  "I would have surely died, if you had not followed the ship."  She worried her bottom lip, her smile faltering, "Did you, perhaps, get the pounds from my family?  I did not see the light of day whilst I was on the... The other ship."

He gripped her hand a bit tighter, searching her eyes for the answer that she wanted him to give.  He found nothing specific, nothing he could use to say easily, but he settled on the truth, which seemed to be the most fair idea for the both of them. 

"It is...  No longer about the money, Lady Tyler," he said cautiously.

Her eyes held realization that he had convinced himself she would not.  "Oh." She said softly.  "What is it about then?"

He stood slightly and leaned forward to press a kiss to her forehead, his opposite hand on the nape of her neck.  When he sat again, he saw that her eyes had fluttered shut.  

"Is it, now?" She said teasingly, opening her eyes, and she drew a smile from him that he was certain he would never be able to give again. 

He opened his mouth to reply when a knock sounded at the door.  Though he was loath to leave her side, he did so, standing and receiving the cheese and bread and water that one of the men had retrieved for Rose.  He took it to her and set it before her as it was, on a tray made of wood.

"You must eat slowly," he told her, "Or I am afraid you will be sick."

She nodded and ate slowly, carefully, and they spoke quietly to each other, never once raising their voice to a shout, as they had nearly every time they had spoken to each other before.  He was lost in her, the gentle lilt of her voice, her tinkling laugh, her stories.  She lived a life so different from his own. 

"Davros was certain I knew of your parents," she said finally in between very tiny sips of water.  "I told him you told me nothing.  And why would you?  Of course, you would not share something like that with a-"

"Friend," he cut her off, his hand in hers once more.  "I would tell a friend, Lady Tyler, I would tell you what happened to them.  They are dead, of course."

"Why must that be an 'of course'?" She asked, her brow drawing together prettily, "Why must it be that your parents' death is accompanied with such a blase affection?  They are gone, Captain, but not 'of course'."

He swallowed hard, unable to make sense of the incredible woman that sat before him, staring into his eyes, no longer with a challenge, but with a longing for understanding of his life.  He found that he desperately wished to kiss her and looked away from her.  "Their fate was a cruel one, Lady Tyler."

She sat forward slightly and reached across the expanse between them to touch his cheek, bring his gaze back to hers.  "As many fates are, Captain."

"Davros killed them," he said softly, voicing the words for the first time since the dreadful event.  "I was just eighteen, he wanted the inheritance I would receive from them."

"He thought you would give it to him?" Rose asked, her brows drawing together.

"You should lay back."

"I am not finished."

"Why do you continue to push me?" he asked, feeling himself on the verge of tears.  

She kept her hands firmly in his own and on his cheek.  "Because I realized something when I was on that ship, Captain," she said softly, "You are a kind man, as much as you hide it behind wicked words and dark stares.  You are..." she gave a shuddering sigh, "You are wonderful."

He was quickly growing attached to the way she was looking at him, as though she were seeing straight through the facade he had worked so hard to build up.  He found himself willing to tell her exactly what had happened on that fateful day. 

"He knew I was weak," John said, "That I knew nothing of becoming a pirate, which I did not, I only became one after he drove a sword through both my parents right before me."  His tone was cold in remembrance but Rose's eyes had softened considerably. 

"Oh," She smoothed her thumb over the apple of his cheek and it was then he realized that he had begun to cry.  She continued to stroke him slowly and she sighed, preparing to speak back to him.  "That is why you have nightmares."

"Yes."

"And you said you did not have nightmares," she said, her smile gentle.

"I did not the night after... When Jack and the men-"

"I know," she said.  "You did not seem upset by any means."

He was drawn taught with tension, forcing himself to hold back from kissing her, pressing himself against her.  He dropped his gaze again, unable to look into her eyes and still restrain himself.

She smoothed her hand from his cheek to his shoulder.  "Would you like to kiss me, Captain?"

"Very much."

She leaned forward so her nose was brushing against his and watched as she touched her hand to the back of his neck.  She was breathing heavily, affected obviously by all of this.  John found himself shaking with the effort of holding himself from her, but she had given him permission.

Aware that she would have never kissed a man before, he was slow in moving towards her and touching his lips to hers.   To his surprise she let out a shuddering sigh of what appeared to be relief and pressed harder against him, kissing him awkwardly but earnestly.  He guided her slowly, taking his time with her, teaching her with lips and a flick of the tongue.  

She muffled a small sound in surprise as they found a rhythm between them, the kiss growing in intensity, his arms wrapping around her back, drawing her closer against him.  Her arms wrapped around his neck as she grew more bold, her touches sweeping across his upper back and into his hair.

Soon enough, it became evident that her adrenaline had worn out and she was exhausted.  He slowed the kiss to a tender stop, adding just one more press of the lips before separating from her. He watched her closely. 

"And yet you have not killed Davros," she said, her voice husky.  

"No.  I swore to myself that I would never be like him."

Rose laid back on the bed, looking up at him.  "Lay with me," she said softly.  "In a pure way, of course, just to feel you next to me."

He was very quick to agree, kicking his boots from his feet and lifting one of the covers to slide into bed alongside her.  She turned into his chest and fit against him as if she had been made for him.  He sighed in contentment and nuzzled against her hair, feeling the heat or her against him.  

"I feel very unsafe when I am with you," he said, "Deep within myself, I know that your fire will burn me."

Rose chuckled, almost to herself.  "Yes," she said softly, "But I find that not all pirates are as horrid as they told us, in the city."

"I want you to stay," he whispered against her hair, but he waited until she was asleep to let them part from his lips.  


	16. Chapter 16

John lay with Rose in his arms, her body curled to his as though they were meant to fit together in such a fashion.  He found himself not wanting to remove himself, obsessing over the touch, even as danger followed.  

It frightened and startled him, how much he wished for her to stay by his side, on the _Tardis,_ in his life.  There were many things to consider, many things he knew she would want.  What she wanted was a courtship and a marriage, things he could give her, surely, but not for a permanent life on land.  He could not live without his ship, that much was clear to even himself. 

He had to consider that Rose would be fair reason to stay on the mainland, to abandon this life, give his crew leave, and be at her side for the rest of his life.  Inside himself though, underneath it all, he knew he would never survive.  He was not built to live a lifestyle like hers, to be posh and professional with everyone he would meet.  He was made for adventure and excitement, and he wasn't sure he wanted it any other way.

When she awakened, he would have to ask her if she wanted to return to her city, back home.  It would take days upon days to go back, but that would be worth it if it would be to give Rose what she wanted or needed. 

Just then, she sighed in her sleep, a gentle, breathy sound that did odd things to his stomach.  She nuzzled her head against his shoulder and his eyes fluttered shut.  He could sleep now, Jack he trusted, though he might push the ship too fast, but that was the least of their worries. 

Turning in towards her, he allowed himself to fall asleep, his body protecting hers from storms yet to come. 

When Rose awoke, it was dark outside of the ship, and she looked up to see John in the face.  He had fallen asleep, but by the way his eyes were moving underneath the lids of his eyes, she had it in good faith that he would awaken soon.  She had never felt so close to a man, and it was incredibly unusual that it was this sort of man she felt comfortable with. 

She felt more alert and healthy that she had been in days, and it was all thanks to him.  He had rescued her, even though it had not been something he had to do, or was forced to do.  She had a feeling he felt something about her, or for her, that was genuine, and was unlike anything else, even any feelings she had sensed from Mr. Saxon. 

Her heart pounding in her chest, she leaned forward to press a kiss to his neck.  He shifted slightly in his sleep and she grinned to herself, nervousness flooding through her all the same.  She had never done anything like this, and the very idea that she was now was something she could barely think of, so she just felt, just _did._

She made her way up to his jaw, and she felt his hand slide up her back. 

"Do you think we're mad, perhaps?" he asked sleepily.

"Why?" she replied, smoothing her hand along  his waist on her way up to brace herself above him.  His eyes held a tenderness she had never seen before. 

"You despised me just days ago, Lady Tyler."

"I do not think I ever truly despised you," She replied thoughtfully.  "I was angry and afraid and... I came to the realization that I was safer here, safer with you."  She cupped his cheek with one hand.

He swallowed harshly, but continued to meet her gaze.  "You... We will return to England, so you can go back to your family."

She nodded, knowing that it was necessary for her to at least see her family, to let them know that she was alright.  "You will come with me."

He frowned at her, clearly unsure of her commanding tone and the request it held.  "No, I don't think that is-"

She bent down to kiss him, cutting him off rather effectively, taking his parted lips as an invitation.  There was only a moment's hesitation before he finally caught on that _this_ was what she wanted, whether he was willing to give it or not, which, of course he was.  His hand slowly came up to cup the back of her head, holding her close against him.  They had found a rhythm that suited them both hours before and at the moment, were hard pressed to find anything better.  She was a novice, and it was clear, but she was a fast learner, and followed his kiss expertly, her own kiss halfway to driving him mad.  He learned her mouth with carefully leashed passion, afraid of frightening her, sending her running, his hand not on her head coming up around her waist, pulling her on top of him.  

"You will come with me," she said again, demanding, when she pulled away, looking down into his glazed eyes.  Somehow she had shifted so her legs straddles his lap, and, looking up at the golden goddess who sat above him like a prideful queen, made his heart nearly cease in its beating. 

He let out a shallow breath and nodded slowly.  "If that is what you wish, Lady Rose."

"I wish for many things," she replied, "But that is one of them."  To punctuate this, she pressed a lingering kiss to his forehead, laying more of herself on top of him.

He laughed at her airy tone, the sound of a Lady coming from a woman who had been through much though up until that point she had seen little.  He brushed his fingertips along her cheek slowly.  "I have realized, among other things, that perhaps it is not best for me to be alone."

"It is not good for man to be alone," she quoted easily, her eyes completely focused on him.  "Or pirates."  She grinned down at him, her smile smug and affectionate.  "Or filthy wenches."

He smiled at her, a light grin that filled her with increasing warmth.  "You quote the Bible when you lie in a man's bed, how scandalous."  He squeezed her waist to note his teasing, not wishing to make her angry or upset in any manner.

"It is," She agreed, shifting herself to be more comfortable on his lap. "Are you objecting, Captain?"

"No, certainly not."

He pulled her down into another heated kiss, both of them now fully aware of the way to get around the other's mouth.  He surged up and rolled her over gently, depositing them into the middle of the bed, the bed covers tangled about their waists.  She gripped the back of his neck in one hand, the other wandering around on his back in soothing circular motions.  Her touch was gentle, and, dare he even think the word to himself, loving.  He pulled away from her mouth to kiss tenderly along her jaw, slow and deliberate, appreciating her very skin.  She arched her neck to allow him better access as he did this, and when he reached her collarbone, he looked back up at her, watching her face and the heaving of her chest.  

"Are you alright?" He asked lowly, his eyes blown wide. 

She ran her fingers through his hair, watching as his eyes fell shut in bliss and smiling at the power she apparently held over him.  "Yes." She whispered.

"You are still unwell," he said regretfully, his voice almost comically mournful.  "You should rest."

"I have been sleeping for hours," she complained in response.  "What else would you expect but a bit of _energy,"_ She ran her foot along his leg. 

He groaned and rolled onto his side again, tucking the covers around him.  "You tease," he said.

"I am not the one teasing."

John turned to look at her, his hand resting on her hip, thumb stroking over the protruding bone there.  "What do you think you will say to Mr. Saxon upon your return?" He asked softly.

She moved closer to him so they were occupying the same space, her face mere inches from his on the pillow.  "I will refuse his proposal and avoid him at any events from that point forward," she looked at him as though the answer was incredibly obvious, "Why would you think I would do anything on the contrary?"

He shrugged, the movement shifting the blankets a bit.  "I do not... I suppose I just thought that you would be trying to be married."

"Yes," she replied, scooting closer to him, her head under his chin, and letting her eyes close.  "I am.  But certainly not to Mr. Saxon.  He is very slimy, that one." 

John let out a huff of laughter.  "Lady Tyler, I believe you have better taste then many of the women in England."

How she reached up to stroke his cheek without even a gaze upward, he would never know, but she did, and whispered, "You may call me Rose."

"Oh, may I, now?" 

"As long as you continue to kiss me like you do," she replied, her voice matching his in teasing.  "Is that alright?"

He squeezed her hip in his hand.  "Yes, that's alright."  He kissed the top of her head.  "Sleep now, _Rose."_

"John."

She said his name with certainty, as if it belonged in her mouth, was meant to roll about her tongue and spill from between her lips.  She shivered at the very syllable, and he found that he could rather quickly grow obsessed with the way she spoke it. 

They fell asleep again, wrapped tighter in each other than before. 

"Do you think _now_ they're-"

"Jack!" Rory looked positively scandalized by what jack had suggested ever couple of hours.  "Lady Tyler is just that: A _Lady._ I highly doubt she is doing anything with the Captain to incriminate herself."

Jack snickered, unable to keep a neutral face at the shocked look on Rory's.  "Oh, I did not think you a blushing virgin, _Master Williams!"_ Jack bowed grandly, and the men laughed.  

Ian swept his hand down to bow even deeper, and the men began to try to bow even deeper than the last until one finally fell on his face.  The men howled in laughter, slapping each other on the backs and poking at Rory, who was now blushing furiously. 

"Lady Amelia would _not_ appreciate-"

"Oh, she'd have our heads, we know," Jack winked, "Do you not think?"

The men all shouted their agreements.  

"Now, really, what do you think our good Captain is getting up to with the Lady down there?"

Some of the men shouted and whistled, while Rory grumbled to himself and looked around uncomfortably.

"They were sleeping when I removed the tray from the quarters!" One man piped up.

"Ah!" Jack pointed at the man and nodded.  "It would appear, that they slept after-"

"They were clothed," the man replied. 

"You are all so vulgar!" Rory shouted. 

"When you do not see women for weeks at a time, it is very difficult to keep one's thoughts pure!" Jack said teasingly, and Rory rolled his eyes.  He looked around at the sea around them and breathed a sigh of relieve.  Though Jack had driven the ship recklessly, too fast for such a ship to go, but they had left _Skaro_ in their wake, as it was a ship even older than the _Tardis._

"We set a course for Scotland, and from there, our good Captain will tell us what to do.  For now, men, you may sleep.  Rory and I will hold things down here."

The men all bid each other rowdy goodnights before disappearing before deck.  Rory sighed heavily and sat himself on a barrel.  "Are you really setting a course for Scotland?"

Jack smiled kindly at his friend from where he stood at the ship's wheel. "Yes, Rory, I am.  It has been a long time since you have seen your lady love and you deserve to do so."

Rory grinned, excitement lighting his heart.  "Yes, well, by all means," he gestured to Jack, who laughed heartily.

"Onwards, Rory, to the homeland!" 


	17. Chapter 17

The journey to Scotland was filled with John doing his best to care for Rose, to bring her back to health.  She was certainly weak after being starved on _Skaro,_ but her dress was washed by the men, who had not washed their own clothes in quite some time, and when she was able to walk, she put it on and went up on deck.  The breeze blew at her hair and she closed her eyes against it, surprised by how much she had missed it.  John watched her, wondering if she loved the sea as much as he did, now that she had seen what she had. 

"Now, then, how far is Scotland?" Rose asked, her voice filled with more of the excitement that John had grown used to over the past few days.  He was hard pressed to refuse her anything now, and grinned broadly at her. 

"About one week out from where we are now," he said, gazing out over the ocean.  She looked as though she were wavering, and he held his hand out to her.  She slid her fingers in between his, locking their hands together, as close as they could be.  She leaned against his shoulder, more for support than romantic intentions.  He relaxed into her, enjoying the touch of her against his side. 

"It would be unheard of, for me to not write a letter to my parents while we are there," she said quietly.  "To let them know that we are safe."

That _we_ are safe.  It ate at him, that she said it like that, as though he had been in danger and that her parents would care that he had been rescued, by her and his men on very different counts.  Innocently, they had shared a bed since her return, him no longer banishing her to a cell for her nights, instead allowing her the comfort he wished he had from the beginning.   He confided in her that he had felt drawn to her perhaps from the very beginning, and was simply pushing her away.  She had smiled and said that the opposite was happening for her. 

There were many things to be considered that John could not even be bothered to consider at that moment in time.   Her departure from his ship would surely be the death of him, he knew that much.  He would brood, would she write?  Would she wear her beautiful gowns and dance at court again, bringing many  a man to her attention, all vying for affections that he had somehow managed to grasp with one hand.  She held his around her finger.

And someday, she would get married, and she would write to him in excitement and perhaps invite him to the wedding.  He would feel the need to wear all black for the occasion, for the death of something that could have easily become love, had he let it.  

Now though, she stood against him, the wind belonging to them, the sun blessing her hair. He stroked his thumb over her finger and nodded so she could feel it.  "You may write below deck, if you wish."

"Well, not just now," She said, as though he had said something rather daft indeed.  "I'm quite happy here, don't you know?"

He smiled.  "Yes, well, that stops you not from returning home."

"Are you suggesting that I stay upon the _Tardis?"_ She replied, the surprise evident in her tone, but her body did not stiffen, leaving him wondering if she was not opposed to the idea. 

He wondered if she heard him swallow heavily.  "Yes, if you wanted to, you could stay with me, with us."

"I do not know if I could live upon the sea," She said quietly, "A life so unsure, it would be nearly impossible to find any ground that was even to walk upon.  And so dangerous." She shivered at her time on the other ship.  "I do not know if that is the life I wish to lead."

"I will ask again," he said, "Not now, but at a time when you have thought more, perhaps?  Enough to make a decision about such matters."

Rose nodded against his shoulder, and squeezed his hand in hers, offering a touch of comfort, and he noticed that his body was rigid with worry.  He allowed himself to relax.

"Yes, you may ask again," she said primly, her Lady's air that crept so often back into her voice stealing him away once more from the ship he had called his home for so many years.  He knew with a crook of her finger and a promise of forever, he would trail right after her off the boat and into England, giving her anything she asked for, and piece of gold, any dress, any token of affection that could belong to her. 

She could feel it in him, that he was letting go of his past regrets and upset and giving them to her to share.  It was a good sign, she noted, when a man let go like that.  He would be ready for marriage, though of course, not right away.  He was tempted by the sea and always would be, and how could a Lady keep up with a mistress such as the open waves?  The simple answer was that she could not and would not. 

It would be unwise to enter into something with this man that would last longer than a few days, the weeks upon sea forcing them cloer together rather than helping them grow.  Perhaps it was the adrenaline, or that he had saved her life.

But she had to admit to herself that there had to be a reason as to why he had saved her life.  It had to be because of who she was, as a person, not as a title.  He could easily receive money without having her in his possession and sail away, and he knew that, he had to.  A man such as he was not new to such bribery and foul tactics.

He was innocent, a man scarred by events of his youth, yes, but not a man with skin stained with blood.  He had been careful, and Rose knew he would continue to be careful.  Was that not worth forgiveness?  Would they even be allowed to live in London, or England, for that matter?

She blew out her cheeks and lifted her head from his shoulder. She was beyond thinking of such things, a future with John, a future with anyone.  Perhaps it was best that she remain alone, that they become something that faded away, the memories the only thing to carry them forward.

If there was one thing she knew above all, it was that she could not allow herself to marry Captain John Smith. 

"Oh, now I've made you think too hard," John said worriedly.  "I'm so very sorry, I didn't mean-"

"It's quite alright," she said, offering him a smile.  "As much as men would like to believe the contrary, it is very good for women to think for themselves every once in a while, to get lost in it."  She directed her gaze back to the sea.  "It is so limitless, I can scarcely believe that I worry of anything of my own while I am here."

John sighed, "It is my fault you have to worry at all," he said quietly, as though not wanting to address this at all to begin with, but acknowledging that he must.

Rose had nothing to say, so she instead bit her lip and gave his hand another tight squeeze.  It fit too well there, was able to cup and fold around his own fingers and draw them together.  He pulled at her, tugged her out to sea, so to speak.  She wondered if the same thing happened with any woman who met him.  He was quite captivating, pirate or not.

"Perhaps I should write that letter," she said thoughtfully, as though the thought had just occurred to her at that moment in time.

"Certainly," John said briskly, and tugged her along behind himself, leading her below deck to where he had written her ransom note for her parents.  A fresh paper was laid out already, and he released her hand to pour fresh ink into the ink pot, laying out a snow white quill with which she would write.

Unable to resist herself, when he turned to her, and anxious look on his face, she cupped his cheeks in her hands and pressed an almost chaste kiss to his mouth.  The kiss would have been chaste, had he not followed her mouth with his own and brought this hands up to clutch at her waist.  She allowed him this, and reveled in it herself, until he released her.

They stood there for a moment, grinning at each other like loons, before he kissed each of her cheeks and released her.  "I shall be back above deck, when you should finish."

She nodded and dropped her hands from him.  "Thank you."

"Yes."

He left the room, allowing her alone, and she sat at his desk, the desk he had sat at when she had thought him dark and cruel.  She dipped her pen in the ink and began writing for the first time in what had now been several weeks.

_Mother and Father,_

_I do not know how to begin, what to say.  I am safe.  You need not pay the money for my ransom any longer.  Captain John says it is no longer about the money._

_I will be brought home to England, and I will be bringing Captain John to meet the both of you.  You must understand that I was taken captive by another ship and he saved his life to secure my own, tending to me until I was well back on his ship._

Rose blushed at the very memory at what had happened on the ship, but pushed on none the less. 

_I am sending this letter from Scotland.  One of the pirates, a man called Rory, has a woman here who I think he plans to take for a wife.  She is a lady named Amelia Pond and I can see in his eyes how much he loves her._

_You must know I am not discontent.  They have treated me well here and have not forced me to wear uncomfortable stays or to eat less than them.  One of the pirates surprised me with a lovely new frock from France, simple but practical for this sort of life._

_And then there is John...  He is not a cruel as we had pictured him, for he is not wicked.  Davros, the pirate who comes not to England, killed John's parents right in front of him.  That was cruel and wicked, but not John.  He jumped off a ship into the ocean to stop my drowning, let me stay warm and comfortable through a recovery process that has taken longer than any of us anticipated._

_He is kind.  He is good, mother, you would like him.  We were quite the pair when we first came into this situation, I yelled at him a great deal when I fear it was not necessary, but he did quite the same, and there were words said that we have since taken back, knowing that we must do so.  Surely you understand that, as you, dear mother, often say things to father that you do not mean._

_I do not know how to say that I fear I have fallen in love with him.  He has cared for me in a way I believe no man ever has, and he has requested I stay with him on his ship, to be there with him.  Can you imagine!  Me, on a ship!  Living there!  Though I suppose I have been doing it for quite some time now._

_There is much to be discussed upon my return, mother, father, and John will listen and I am sure he will apologize._

_Tell Mr. Saxon I harshly reject his proposal._

_All my love,_

_Rose Tyler_

She signed her name with a flourish and stared down at the words.  The way they flowed across the page made her smile at it, at the simplicity of the words she had trouble admitting to even herself.  She blew gently on it to dry it, replacing the quill pen and searching for John's seal. 

Upon finding it, she folded her letter into an envelope and went through the motions of sending off a letter, writing her parents' address across the front and then leaving the sealed letter on the desk for when they arrived in Scotland. 

She walked to the deck, as she did, pondering how close she had become to John, how well they fit together.  They had learned much of each other over the past few days and were set to learn more.  The deep and personal things she was no longer afraid of sharing. 

She found him standing with his back to her, his hands clasped behind him as the other pirates bustled around busily away from his post by the wheel.  She approached him, wrapping around in front of him so he did not see her coming.  He peered down at her, eyebrows raised in question.  

They were successfully hidden here, her in front of him, and she took his hands in hers, wrenching them from the spot behind his back. 

"I love you."


	18. Chapter 18

_"I love you."_

He was incredibly shocked by this, his eyes wide and staring down into hers.  "You... What?"

She faltered, unsure of what his reaction meant.  "I love you," She repeated, quietly. 

He let out a shuddering sigh and pulled his hands from her only so he could wrap his arms around her, his cheek resting on the top of her head.  His heart was pounding furiously, she could feel it against her.  

"I fear greatly that I love you too," he replied softly, as though if he said it any louder the Earth would implode because they had found each other.

***

They traveled the rest of the way to Scotland without further incident.  The travels were long and Rose grew weary but was rather excited all the same.  She walked with wobbly legs, growing eager to walk along dry land again.  There was much to consider about whether she would stay on the ship or go home to her parents.  Deep in her heart she knew she must return, that she could not live a life of piracy as he did.  She was not built for it, though she was built for him.

When they arrived in Scotland, Rory was anxious to return to Lady Amelia's side, and inquired to John if he could take Rose with him.  John seemed hesitant, but nodded from where he stood beside her.  She grinned and gave his hand a squeeze, which baffled him a bit to say the least.  Still having little touches of affection from her were beyond his comprehension, as though he did not deserve him.  He was loath to refuse them though, and instead returned them to her.

"Perhaps I will join you at Amelia's," he said thoughtfully, watching Rose more than Rory. 

"I think she would rather like that, Captain, it has been ages since she has seen you."

John's gaze traveled to Rory and he smiled.  "Yes, I suppose it has.  I have to send this letter, though, and that must be done first.  I shall return."

"Yes sir," Rory turned and started walking, well aware of what would be taking place behind him. 

John cupped Rose's cheek in his hand, staring down into her eyes with the intense gaze that could only ever belong to him.  "You must be careful."

She nodded against his skin and smiled.  "Yes, sir."

He rolled his eyes.  "That lip of yours is going to get you in trouble, my Lady."

She met his gaze steadily, her eyes full of mischief.  "I hope it does."

John grinned at her, at the fact that the spirit of the woman he had tried to hard to despise had remained, even under her sweetness.  He knew her temper would forever be a force to be reckoned with, and he was ready to accept the challenge.  He leaned down and kissed her, and it would have been chaste had she not chased his mouth when he tried to pull away.  

When they separated, he began to pull away from her.  "If your father has correspondents here..."

"He doesn't," Rose said firmly, "And even if he did, I would not go with them."

This seemed to encourage John, who took her hand and pressed a kiss to her knuckles.  "Until later, then."

"Of course."

Amelia lived in the port town, so the walk there while the men sent Rose's letter and gathered up the odd supplies (some taken by legal means, some not) was not long.  Rory chatted in an animated sort of way, and Rose could sense how anxious he was to see Amelia again.  It was clear he loved her dearly from how he spoke of her. 

"And you are to propose?" She asked, smiling widely.  He turned a startled eye on her and stumbled a bit over nonexistent words. 

"Lady Tyler, I am a _pirate,_ a man of the sea, I cannot be married."  He looked away from her.

"But you would remove yourself from this life to be with her," Rose said to him.  "I have seen it."

"I would," he replied, "But if she returns, aboard the ship with us, I will not have to."

Rose let out a cry of delight.  "Ah!  So you are to ask for her hand!"

He colored deeply, as though surprised she had talked him into such a corner.  "Yes, I suppose I am," he said, smiling sheepishly. 

"I am happy for you."

"I have it in good faith that our Captain has asked you to remain aboard as well."

Rose's smile slipped a little at that, unsure of how to respond.  She lifted a shoulder.  "He has requested it, I have not given an answer.  I must see my parents."

"That does not mean you will stay with them?"

She shook her head, thinking to herself.  "I suppose everyone leaves home in the end," she said finally, with a sort of finality in her voice that did not convey her indecision on the matter. 

"I suppose," Rory replied, "And some sooner than others."

"Of course."

Amelia was a spry young woman with fiery red hair contained in a lovely updo that made Rose self conscious of her own appearance.  It was odd, how this seemingly random woman could instill that in her when a man she cared very much for did not.  She supposed that was because of the adoration he bestowed upon her when he so much as glanced her way. 

"Rory, you've got Lady Tyler with you."

"I have."

"What... Is she traveling on the ship?" Amelia did not seem jealous, just confused.  "Have you been feeding her?  Look at her, we've got to clean her up!"

Amelia pulled Rose into the house, leaving Rory looking very put out at not having received any sort of welcome kiss. 

"There are servants upstairs who will help you bathe and dress.  I suppose you will want a simple frock?"

"Well, I've been on the ship for-"

"Ah, no corset for you then."

"Lady Pond, I-"

"Call me Amelia, please," She grasped Rose's hands in her own, smiling broadly. 

Rose found her self smiling in return. "Well, then you must call me Rose."

She was promptly shipped upstairs to get cleaned up.  Once she was gone, Amelia turned to Rory, hand on her hips. 

"Why is Lady Tyler all dirtied up on your blasted ship?" She asked teasingly.

"She was our captive, and now the Captain is in love with her," Rory replied in a blase tone, approaching Amelia.

She indulged him in a kiss and an long embrace, as it had been very long since they had last seen each other.  After a moment, she said into his shoulder, "The Captain is in love?"

Rory chuckled at her distraction.  "It would appear so, my Lady.  He called her such wicked names upon her capture.  He went so far as to request four million pounds from her family and call her a filthy wench all in the same breath."  he laughed at the memory, which grew increasingly distant as he saw how John and Rose behaved with one another now.  "But now he watches over her as though he could be doing nothing more important, and requested she stay aboard the ship."

Amelia arched an eyebrow.  "You have read of her too, surely, Rory, you know how wealthy she is.  Why would she give up a life such as the one she leads?"

Rory smiled.  "Because she loves him."

***

It had been a good deal of time since Rose had been properly pampered, and she had to admit that she was surprised by what was now an intrusion.  True, it had been ages since she had bathed, not counting her short dip in the ocean.  The servants bathed her in a lavender bath, chatting away aimlessly with her as they washed her hair.  Rose found that she was having quite a bit of trouble keeping up. 

"You were on the ship!  Rory's ship!" One of the ladies squealed in delight. 

"Well, actually, it belongs to Captain John." Rose said meekly.

"Of course it does," Another lady said as she towel dried Rose's hair so that she could begin winding her loose hair up into a style pulled back from her face.

"How afraid you must have been, to be captured," the first lady said, who was clearly more entranced with the fantasy of the story than the grit of it that captured the back of Rose's teeth in remembrance of Davros's horrid treatment of her, and John's kind hand. 

"More inconvenienced than anything," Rose replied with a sort of confidence, and all the women tittered out light laughs.  

They dressed her up in a soft pink gown that resembled the most delicate of flowers.  Its neck was low and it was simple in itself, but held to her shape and made her feel rather fine. 

"Oh, it is a bit long for you, I fear," one lady said.  "Shall we hem it?"

The other ladies agreed and it was soon sewn up appropriately. 

****

Downstairs, Rory was anxious, behaving as such, reaching for Amelia's hand time and time again, much to her confusion.  She finally took both of his hands in her own and smiled warmly at him.  "What troubles you, my love?" She asked, right in the face of his awkwardness. 

"Nothing troubles me," he assured her, "I am troubled not when I am with you."

"Such sweet words," she praised him, "Now, pray tell, are they true?"

She was teasing, that he knew, was not asking for a declaration of his love.  He felt the need to do so, however, and looked at her carefully.  "Amelia, I wish to ask you something that will change our lives forever, and I have not asked your father."

"Rebellion," Amelia said, her voice filled with laughter, "I daresay I like it.  Now tell me what it is?"

He shifted on the couch they sat upon and turned to face her more fully.  "I love you, Amelia, honestly and completely, that you must know."

"Of course I do," she said, surprised by his tone, his seriousness. 

"I want to marry you.  If you consent, of course."

Amelia's face blossomed into a huge smile, taking her whole face in happiness, her eyes alight and beaming.  "Of course!  How foolish of you to think I would say anything different," she laughed.  "And where would we live?"

He was so shocked by her simple words, acceptance of his proposal, that his mouth dropped open.  "Yes, of course, living!  Well, we could... I could... Stay here?"

Amelia's smile softened to something a bit more tender at his words.  "My dear Rory, you know that would make you miserable for too long.  Perhaps we can go aboard the _Tardis,_ for the summer season, and live in Scotland for the winter?"

The ease with which she said the words had him narrowing his eyes at her, "You've been thinking about this," he said softly.

She nodded, a bit of solemness lodged in the action.   "For nearly a year."

He kissed her then, with the joy of her acceptance and her worry to make them both happy.  She smiled against his mouth and pulled away, smacking his chest.  "We are not _yet_ wed, dear Rory," she scolded him. 

He smiled a little shyly at her and opened his mouth to say something else when the servants brought Rose downstairs.  

Amelia turned to look.  "Ah!  You look lovely.  I trust they hemmed the dress?" She stood to greet her new friend, whose hair was done up high upon her head, two loose curls falling on either side of her face.  She nodded, feeling and looking much cleaner. 

"Yes, they hemmed the dress," she said, smiling.  "It was a bit of an inconvenience, I'm afraid, for the servants."

"Posh.  It's my fault I was born with mile-long legs," she said, grinning, and Rory choked on seemingly nothing.

The three of them chatted, Amelia blurting out the news and Rose revealing she knew all along, until there was a harsh knock at the door.  Amelia smiled at her friend, who was wringing her hands a bit in what appeared to be nervousness. 

"I think this might be for you," she said, walking to the door.  "Oh, it is lucky my parents are away, or else none of us would say anything fun!" 

She opened the door and Captain John entered, taking Amelia's proffered hand and kissing it before she allowed him farther into the room.  Rose and Rory stood, and John's eyes immediately landed on the former.  

"You look beautiful," he said, the earnest and honest tone to his voice enough to make her cheeks color deeply, and she looked away from him, embarrassment coming over her.

"You need not say such flattering things," she said. 

He grinned wolfishly at her reaction.  He took her hand and kissed her hand, watching her eyes as he did so.  "I do not need to," he agreed, "But still I do."

She smiled and the four of them sat down, John admittedly probably a bit too close to Rose's side, but of course, he was a pirate and knew nothing of propriety.  Her cheeks heated with the nearness of him and his touch.  Of course, they had shared his bed all the way to Scotland, but they were alone then, and they could whisper to each other, their conversations quiet and sometimes rather personal. 

Amelia smiled at Rory at the appearance of them, for they were a rather handsome couple, and it was obvious that the attraction they felt for each other went beyond anything casual.  She fetched them some tea which Rose took gratefully, as she had not had tea since she had been taken.  John watched her carefully and thought that perhaps he should purchase some for her on the way back to the ship.  

He was uncomfortable, of course, with the amount of domesticity this held, and the fact that he would have to meet Rose's mother very soon made that even more apparent.  He glanced at Rory one too many times and his friend nodded with a sigh. 

"Yes, I think it's best that we began our return to England." Rory said, the regret seeping through his voice. 

"I take it you are no longer a prisoner?" Amelia said, smiling widely.  Rose blushed a little as the group got to their feet.   

"No, I am not," She replied.  "I am now a guest, returning home."

John tried not to feel hurt with her words, telling himself that perhaps she did not mean it as a permanent arrangement.  He touched her back gently as they left, leaving Rory and Amelia to bid each other goodbye properly.  Rose started off with John back to the ship. 

"I meant it," he said softly, "You look beautiful."

"Amelia's servants were a great help," she said, looking down at herself.  

He leaned down to press a kiss to her cheek and wrapped his arm around her waist as they continued their walk back to the ship.  Even though he would do his best to not say the words, he was now terrified of losing her, and would do his best to try and keep her with him.


	19. Chapter 19

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This story has gotten away from me a bit, but it should only be one or two more chapters!

The night was filled with dancing and expression, Rory bringing Amelia on board eventually.  There were only two women on board then, so they danced more than any of the other men.  It reminded Rose quite a lot of the first night she had realized that John was not quite as evil as she had thought.  

She _felt_ beautiful just as John had said she looked.  The way he looked at her was unlike any other.  He tried to hold her as much as possible, but of course, with Rose being a woman and them being in quite short supply, he was swept away from him quite a bit.  It was really the same with Amelia, who kept grasping for her fiance, and giggling, very seldom managed it. 

Finally, Rose landed in John's arms, laughing, her hair coming out of the lovely style that it had been in before.  John thought to himself that she had never looked so beautiful, and he held her close, his hand flexing against her back. 

"Hello," he said finally, grinning at her in a wide way that told her everything that she would ever need to know about him.  

Her arm traveled around his shoulders as their opposite hands joined together, him swinging her across the deck.  She silently thanked the men playing the instruments as they slowed it drastically.  She pushed herself closer to him and leaned her head on his shoulder.  He leaned his cheek against her head, feeling her breath against his neck. 

"Your parents are certain to hate me," he said softly. 

"I told them that I was in love with you," she whispered, as though it was a bashful schoolgirl secret, though she knew it was anything but.  It was something deeper, something a woman such as Rose did not feel lightly, because she had been brought up not to do so.

He felt his eyebrows raise in surprise.  "You did?" He asked.

"Yes," she replied with absolutely certainty.  

He sighed and reveled in the feeling of holding her against him, the warmth of her.  He would be hard pressed to feel this way again, did she leave him, never to board the _Tardis_ again.  It was a thought he had originally believed he would adore, to get rid of her, that 'wretched woman' but instead he wanted her as close as possible. 

He stroked his hand up her back and shifted to look her in the eyes.  "How did we find ourselves here?" He asked, laughing a bit.

"I cannot pretend to know," she replied, a tender smile gracing her lips.  "I was supposed to despise you until my parents found the money for a ransom, but I find myself..." She stopped herself, cupping his cheek with the hand that was on his shoulder.  "Doing quite the opposite."

Unable to resist, as he had resisted quite well for the majority of the night, he leaned forward to kiss her gently, with all the tenderness of someone who most certainly wanted to be her husband in years to come.  Rose ran her hand up into his hair and curled her fingers into it.  He gasped at the feeling and pulled away from her.  "Perhaps we should return below deck?" He asked breathlessly, giving her a very firm and easy 'out' from the whole idea. 

Her eyes held a bit of fear, but the trust that was held within them as well, and she smiled softly, and a little wickedly.  She pressed herself against him, her breath touching his face.  "Perhaps when the party has ended, Captain John."

An odd, strangled sound passed between his lips and he leaned forwards to press his forehead to hers.  "You tease."

"A wretched tease."

He laughed and continued a sweeping dance across the deck.  "Perhaps."  He said, "But you and I, Lady Tyler, are something I very much want to be permanent."

She sobered and smiled softly.  "I do, as well," she replied.  "I do not know what to do," she said, "With your invitation to stay on the _Tardis,_ or the promise of a predictable life, there is much to consider."

His jaw was set, and she could not tell if he was angry or biting back tears.  She did not wish for him to see this as a rejection, and kissed him on the cheek, hoping that would tell him quite what he needed to know.  He nuzzled her cheek and squeezed her lightly before she was swept away by the next pirate who'd had a bit too much rum and had not seen the moment unfolding before him.  Rose couldn't stop herself from laughing at the complete look of shock on John's face.  She threw him a wink as she was swept away.  

It was much, much later that evening when Rory took Amelia home, both of them slightly drunk and gripping each other, giggling.  Rose smiled widely at the happiness emanating between them.  Newly engaged and on their way to happiness, she had to admire the two of them.  And they were going to stay together on the _Tardis,_ she'd heard them discussing it.  Perhaps, if she stayed, she would not be alone as she thought she would be.

The men were still dancing with each other up on deck, drunkenly stumbling about and singing loudly.  John took her by the hand and looked below deck before gazing back to her, a question in his eyes.  She nodded and followed him down.  Jack noticed and grinned, picking up a lively tune on his fiddle.  

It was quieter below deck.  Rose and John were blessedly alone, though the stomping and the ruckus of dancing followed them all the way to the Captain's quarters.  Rose preceded him into the room, and walked to his desk. 

John shut the door behind them and watched her curiously, several questions lurking behind his eyes.  She smiled at him and pulled open a drawer, pulling something from within it.  She walked over to him, her fingers curled around the object, and set it in his han.  

He glanced down at the little rose carving she had placed in his hand and laughed lightly.  "Where on Earth?" his gaze reached hers again.  "The last time I saw this was-"

"I know," she said, "And it is yours."

"I took it anyway."

He set the rose back on the desk and wrapped his arms around her waist to kiss her deeply, tenderness the only thing behind it, no urgency, no rushing.  She slid her hand tentatively up the sleeves of his shirt, memorizing his mouth in an easy fashion that had him nearly trembling under her touch. 

"I want you to marry me," he said, kissing his way across her jaw and down her neck, growing obsessed with her touch.  

"I want to marry you," she replied, her head tilting back to allow him better access to her skin.  He held her tighter at the words. 

He groaned against her skin as he started to remove her dress.  "I wish you would stay with me."

She did not reply, instead pulled him back up to kiss him again, her arms wrapping around his neck.  Her mouth descended on his before she could say something she would regret, like that she would stay, or that she would leave.  Neither seemed like the best option.  

He led her past where he had laid the tiny carving and sat her down on the bed, tenderly taking the pins from her hair.  She closed her eyes at the feel of his fingers in her hair, the gentleness of his untangling.  It was about much more than the simple action of taking her hair down from its style.  It was almost worshipful. 

"I've never met someone like you," he said softly, "Someone who could make me feel as I do, bring me back from my past in such an extraordinary way.  I love you."

"John."

He pulled back to look at her, squatting down before her, his hand full of pins.  "Yes?"

She ran her hands through his hair once before knocking the hair pins from his hand.  "I love you too."

He kissed her, standing as he did so, pushing her onto her back.  Her arms came around his neck and he knew that this would be it, for her.  There would never be anyone else, never another man.  She almost laughed at the notion.  She would do to fall in love with a _pirate._

And he knew he had done well to fall in love with her. 

************

She woke up in his arms and was surprised by how tight he was gripping her.  She smiled and burrowed into his chest, and his arms crushed her against him.  She tilted her chin up to kiss his jaw before pushing herself back into his embrace.  He sighed heavily, his bare chest moving under her in a relaxing motion.  She ran her hand up and down his side, letting her eyes flutter closed.  He seemed to awaken simply because she had and kissed her forehead. 

"It's late," he said, his voice rough with sleep. 

"Yes," she replied, glancing up over the bed and out the bay window into the night sky.  "Hang on, we're moving."

"I suspect Jack has taken up his role as first mate and allowed us to set sail," John replied, not bothered at all by that particular development, it seemed. 

Rose blushed a bit.  "It would be a blessing, then, that he did not come to find you."

John chuckled and squeezed her to him.  "Perhaps he did."

"Oh," Rose groaned, pressing her face into his chest.  "That is.... Beyond embarrassing."  

"My lady, I think you'll find that there would be far more embarrassing things than _Jack."_ He pressed a kiss to her hairline.  "Perhaps he wanted us to be on our way to England as soon as possible."

She stared across the room, practically feeling the blank stare of her gaze.  "Yes, I suppose he would."

They were both thinking the same things, both of their minds running on the same path.  It was Rose's decision, and John would not pretend that it wasn't.  She would make the choice to leave the ship with no means of return, or she would decide to bring herself right back on board.  Whatever it was, he would support her, and he would visit her often to prove how sincere his feelings were towards her if she would not stay with him.  There had to be a way for him to prove to her that he loved her, even if she did not stay with him. 

As though she could hear his thoughts, she tapped his side with her fingertips and angled herself to look up at him.  "I believe I can hear the gears of your mind turning," she said teasingly, a gentle smile teasing her lips.  His eyes glinted happily in the darkness. 

"I am thinking about you," he told her honestly.

"You flatter me."

"I try to," he said, his voice soft and cautious.  

She curled tighter around him, her eyes fluttering shut as his admission.  "Perhaps that cell will not be needed again."

His arms tightened around her and he murmured into her hair, "It will not." he said in a promising way, the conviction of his voice shaking her to her very core.

She found herself slipping into sleep, the darkness and her comfort overtaking her entirely.  He pulled the bedcovers up over them both and nuzzled her hair before he followed her into sleep.  

The following days were filled with joy from the whole crew, as Rose being there and Amelia's visit had brought them happiness.  They were both such naturally lighthearted people that it seemed to travel over into everyone else around them.  Jack had been smiling for about a day and a half without fail, so much so that Rose wondered if he was doing it in his sleep. 

John was possessive of her now, but not in a way that was overwhelming.  His hand would touch her back on occasion if she was talking to another one of the men, or press a hurried kiss to her forehead before the crew sat down to eat.  He loved her, and showed her at every opportunity.  They were happy, as odd as it was, on board the ship. 

She laughed more than she ever had before, loving the freeing feeling of being able to hold him whenever she wanted, mostly because she was not around her parents.  She had to tell him that of course, once they made it to England, she would have to keep her hands off of him, and the same would go for him.  He simply kissed her hard and said that they might as well catch up now.  

The day finally came when they arrived in England. 

And Rose found that her stomach had turned to rocks, and she did not want to go home.


	20. Chapter 20

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> One more after this... It might be exceptionally long and will include the Epilogue, but that's what it will be! Enjoy!

Rose had dressed in her pink dress the day they arrived in England.  John did up the back, his fingers brushing against her skin all the way up.  She felt that his mood was at a more somber level then she would have liked.  She turned around smiled up at him.  "Why are you looking at me like that?" She asked, cupping his cheeks and looking into his worried eyes. 

He shrugged.  "It's quite alright, my Lady, I'll just be on deck, waiting for you," he said, and pulled away from her, leaving her a bit confused.  She let him go and sat to begin pinning her hair in a style she was most familiar with from the last time she had been in England, which seemed oh so long ago. 

When she was finally finished and satisfied with her clean, pretty appearance, she walked up upon the deck to see the men bustling about their work, polishing the rails and sharpening their swords.  When they saw Rose they cheered for her, though if it was for her departure or her 'mayhap' of a return, the details so fuzzy Rose had not told anyone on board the ship, she could not tell. 

She let them then, smiling politely and walking to where John stood, his hands clasped behind his back.  He held his arm out for her and she slid her hand in the crook.  Jack let out a wolf whistle that sent Rose giggling and had John rolling his eyes. 

John was quiet, as she had anticipated he be on their way to her home.  He did not appear nervous, per say, though she could not put her finger on what exactly the emotion was.  She could read him very well, and the very notion that he was hiding something from her irritated her.  She reached over and smacked his chest, startling him.  He looked at her with a cocked brow, the arrogance she had originally associated with him come back to light upon his face.

"It is sunny and we are in _England,_ that is cause for celebration," she said, turning her nose up. 

"The day may not stay sunny, and you know that as well as I.  I wish you would tell me your intentions."

"I do not tell you because I do not know," she found herself snapping, feeling intruded upon by him as much as she wanted him close.  He huffed quietly next to her in what she supposed was frustration. 

He clenched his arm around hers, bringing her closer to himself.  "I know not what you wait for," he said, "To hold a man at your arm's length gives you power, does it not?"

John was getting defensive, and she knew why. He was feeling insecure, perhaps, that he did not know exactly where the cards would fall.  She turned to look at him, seeing fire snapping behind his eyes.  "I held you much closer than arm's length," she said, raising her eyebrows.  "A task not taken lightly by a lady."

He relented, as he did during more of their lover's tiffs, his shoulders sagging a bit as though the notion that he had upset her had done more damage to him then it ever had when they truly despised each other.  "I am aware," he said, "But forgive me for feeling teased, Rose."

Every time she heard him speak her true name and did not address her as a Lady, she found her stomach churning with excitement.  It was he she was meant to be with, of course she knew that.  It was a very simple matter and maybe for a moment she was fond of being simple.  

"I promise, I am not teasing you," she said with conviction, making a point to look in his eyes as she said this.  He nodded, accepting this honestly, she could see.

"Lady Tyler!" A young man ran up to them, breathless.  "Are you in need of rescuing?"

Rose laughed and shook her head.  "No.  Captain John is my escort back home.  I was never in any true danger.  Run along now, Timothy."

"Everyone has heard of the letter," Timothy said, and then his eyes widened, as though he was not supposed to divulge such information. 

Rose's brows drew together and she had a distinct feeling that next to her, John was doing the same.  "What, pray tell, do you mean by that?" She asked. 

"Your mother was in hysterics when she read it," Timothy said slowly, taking a step back as his eyes met John's for the first time.  "Your father sent for my father, as he owns the post, and thought that perhaps there was something they could do to get you here faster.  They said they wanted to 'set you straight' as it were, my Lady."

"As it were?" John asked, his voice coldly calm.  Rose would be lying if she said that being on the receiving end of that tone would make her cringe, but she knew it would make Timothy, the weak little lad he was.  

"Seeing as she's... Disgraced the family, fallen in love with a-"

"That's enough," Rose snapped.  "We need hear no more.   _I_ need hear no more, and will not.  You have a lovely day Timothy, and I will be sure to do the same."  She pulled John away from the young boy, her anger more prevalant then his.

"Good to know the entirety of England knows the life you keep," John murmured. 

"It would do just as well that we sailed away on the _Tardis_ and never returned," Rose said spitefully, then turned to John, realizing what she had said.  "If they were not my parents, my family, I would do just that," She told him earnestly, willing him to believe her.  Her words earned her a weak smile as they reached her parents' house. 

Rose made sure that John was to keep her arm in his, not relenting his touch for even a moment.  He was a bit rough looking, she realized, his hair untamed, his clothes black and clearly that of a pirate's.  But somehow, that was an appealing look, at least for him, and he was quite lovely.  She gave him a reassuring smile before slamming the knocker down.

There was much scurrying about in the house before a servant opened the door, panting for breath.  "Lady Tyler!  You have returned!  Come in, come in, come in!"

Rose giggled and walked in, John hesitant, but even more hesitant to leave her side, so he followed along closely.  "Thank you.  Where are my mother and father?"

"On their way down, my Lady.  They are with a few guests.  Please wait in the parlor, I told them that was where I would send you."

"Of course," Rose nodded, and led the way there.  John felt himself growing more and more uncomfortable.  This was a house much like the one that his parent's had owned, before their deaths, and it wasn't very much like reliving it, but as though someone else was, and he was watching.  He knew that was ridiculous, that Rose's parents were quite alright, but it didn't stop him from being anxious at the notion.  

Rose sat herself down on one of the plush couches in the parlor, heaving a sigh of relief, her arm slipping from John's for the first time.  He sat next to her and immediately took her hands in his.  She smiled and squeezed them.  "Now, isn't it odd how people can change so much?"

"I think you will find here I am the only one who has changed," he said softly.  "That is a good thing, mind you, I'm trying to insinuate that I'm-"

She shushed him.  "I found something I could have never pictured when I was captured," she said, "I found you, John, the you that you hide behind piracy and war tactics.  Your past.  How you love, how you breathe at night, how you look at someone who is important to you.  I've seen you in the best light and the worst light, and I still love you for it."

He seemed to be calmed by this.  "I was never meant to love you," he said behind a light laugh. 

She grinned at him.  "And I you.  But that is why you and I must be, don't you realize?  We are completely ruined for anyone else."

"Good."

"I rather think so."

Their moment was shattered, as all moments are, as all moments must be when it comes to the life of a man called John Smith.  The first person to enter the parlor was not, in fact, the Tylers, but Mr. Saxon, wearing a uniform brassed and cleaned, a uniform Rose had never seen on him before.  She looked up when she saw him approach, the surprise clear in her eyes.  

"Do not bother to draw your weapon," Mr. Saxon said, "For we have the house surrounded and you will not be leaving here un-escorted."

John cleared his throat, though Rose felt his hands begin to sweat.  "Well, it is an excellent thing that Lady Tyler escorted me here then, isn't it?  She can escort me right back."

"We all read that blasted letter Rose wrote."

"You do not have permission to use that name."

"And you do?" 

"Yes."

Mr. Saxon sneered, his face ugly with the motion, and Rose cringed, resisting the urge to burrow into John's side and never let him out of her sight again.  Mr. Saxon pulled his sword and John gave the other man a surprised look.  He got to his feet and drew his own sword. 

"My good sir," he began sarcastically, "You cannot ask me to not draw my weapon when you are clearly so keen on doing the same of yourself."

"I very well can, I am of the law now," Mr. Saxon replied, "I joined to find Lady Tyler, to bring her home."

"Yes, and here she is, so perhaps I should be the one winning the medal now, shouldn't I?" John replied airily.

Mr. Saxon cried out and lunged forward with his sword, aimed right for John's heart. He deflected it easily, the swing of a man who was an expert swordsman and knew it.  He watched Mr. Saxon carefully for his next move, not getting caught up in banter or emotion, as Mr. Saxon seemed to be keen on doing.  

"Rose, I want you to leave the room.  Find your parents.  I will not risk you getting hurt."

Rose's heart clenched with the sincerity of his words, at his willingness and want to protect her.  She stood up to kiss his cheek, her breath still ghosting his cheek as she whispered, "This will not go over well with me, my love."

"And I," John replied, turning his head to catch her lips in a quick kiss before, for once, she listened to what he said and disappeared from the room. 

She heard the clash of swords and shouted for her mother.  Soon both her parents will running down to embrace her.  They caught her in their arms and Rose let herself revel in them for only a moment before she pulled away.  

"You read my letter to every person in the country!" She shouted at them, tears blurring her eyes.  "And now, what's happened?  Mr. Saxon and John are fighting in the parlor, don't you hear?" 

Jackie's worried eyes traveled to the parlor.  "Oh, no," she said softly.  "Rose, certainly you know what has to be done."

Rose furrowed her brows, the clashing of the swords fading into the back of her mind.  "Of course not!  I love him, mother, don't you see that, don't you _know?_ Look at me!  Dressed properly, here, safe, and it's all thanks to him as much as it is his fault."

"Rose!" Her father barked.  He was fuming with anger and walked into the parlor, the women trailing behind them.  He grabbed Saxon by the arm when he was mid swing and shoved him away, holding a hand up at John, who looked surprised, but was not aiming to strike.  

She ran to him immediately, for she must, and he was safe, and he sheathed his sword quickly to be able to collide with her.  She tucked herself into his side and he held her close to him, pressing a kiss to her hair.  

"I brought your daughter back because I see my wrong doings," John said firmly.  "I am quite in love with your daughter."

"You're a filthy pirate!" Jackie cried.  "Read the arrest!"

Mr. Saxon, who had regained his dignity, pulled a roll of parchment from his pocket and opened it, reading easily, "Captain John Smith of the ship the _Tardis_ is hereby under arrest for piracy and treason against England and her crown.  He will be hung at daybreak."

Rose screamed and clutched at John's shirt.  He held her upright by the waist, murmuring into her hair, doing his very best to comfort her when his own hands were shaking. 

It would seem the _Tardis_ would be departing without Rose and without her Captain.


	21. Chapter 21

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's done!!!!!!!!!! Thanks for all the support on this, I'll be writing a new AU soon :)

It flew by in an instant, the moment where he was taken from her and shoved into a prison down the street.  Rose screamed the entirety of the time, her arm sweeping out to catch his hand. She just quite managed it, their fingers locking for a brief moment before panic swept through his eyes and they were ripped from each other, a door put between them.

Rose's father caught her by the waist, holding her firm so she could not go to him. She clawed at his arm, crying out in anguish. He reprimanded her harshly.

"Stop it, you reckless child! That man held you captive and yet you fight for his release?"

"Yes!" She shouted, breaking free from her father's grasp only to collapse in a heap of pink fabric. "Yes, and I will stay with him till daybreak." She stumbled to her feet and looked over at her mother, who's arms were crossed angrily.

"This is foolish, Rose," Jackie said harshly. "You are not to sit by that vile Captain's cell all night. You have not let us reunite with you properly because of this mess you have caused."

Rose felt genuine shock pass over her face. "You think love is a mess?" She asked, her eyes cold. "What you know is half the story. The entirety of my trip on that ship is very different than you think."

"Go to bed, Rose," Jackie said softly, her mother's tone falling back in. "We will discuss this in the morning."

Feeling defeated but still remarkably inspired, she swept away from them to her room.  Her servants fell upon her at the sight of her, tittering about how lovely she looked in spite of everything else. She smiled graciously as they began to dress her for bed.

"I pray you leave me tonight," she said, "The night will be longer tonight more than others, I'd much rather be alone."

The servants were eager to please her and nodded emphatically, giving her sloppy and hurried curtsies before leaving the room in quite a hurry.  Rose sighed when she was finally left alone, her hair in loose waves around her shoulders and the nightdress she was wearing cinching under her breasts and falling to the floor.  By now, she was used to sleeping in one of John's extra shirts, not having nightclothes of her own, but now the extra tightness of her dress was making her slightly uncomfortable. 

Under normal circumstances, she would be exhausted, ready to tuck into bed without another thought, but John was not there with he rand the very thought seemed to make her uneasy.  She shook herself and set about her planning, wide awake with the thought of her plan. 

It was risky, and there was no doubt that no matter what the outcome, she would pay dearly for it the next morning.  She hurriedly began tying her sheets together after setting a chair underneath the doorknob, effectively blocking everything beyond the door from her.  She tested her knots, her only fear that the sheets would not be long enough, and opened the window that showed a view of the street.  

She tied the end of it to a hook on the wall meant for holding back curtains and sighed, offering up a silent prayer that she would be able to make it out of the house without being seen by her parents, any servants, or her brother.  It seemed simple enough, but she knew now that simple was no longer relevant when it came to her.

Taking a cloak, she wrapped it around her shoulders, pulling the hood up to cover her face.  It would not do to be spotted now by anyone in the town, even though the prison was so close.  It was strange, how she never noticed how close it was, but found herself obsessed with it, its location, things that she usually paid no mind.  Would the guards let her in?  Or would she be sent to crawl up her wall. 

There was no way to break John out of the cell, she knew that.  however, she could be with him, and perhaps convince her parents of the wrong they were doing in convicting the mans he loved.  It was far fetched and possibly foolish as her father had said, but she was willing to risk such a thing.

Had her parents even informed Mr. Saxon that she had rejected his proposal?  They had disregarded everything else she had said, why would this be any different?  She had no time to dwell in it, even as her anger towards her parents mounted in her heart.  

She took hold of the sheets, and, mindful of her skirts, swung her legs over the windowsill.  It was treacherous, and she could feel her heart pounding against her ribs, fear and adrenaline coursing through her in a way she had not experienced since their last adventure aboard the ship.  Perhaps she was built for that sort of life, and had been wrong before.  Perhaps her place was with John and she was an idiot of the highest order to try to fight against it.

She looked up at the moon, close to full and giving her light.  This was going to have to be quick, she had no time to waste on such trivial matters.  She fell, repelling down quickly until her feet touched the dirt of the bit of garden around the front of the house.  Too close to a window for her liking, she wrapped the cloak tighter around herself and took off down the street, her bed slippers the only things protecting her from the dirt and rocks in the ground. 

The prison loomed almost immediately and she chased it as though it were escaping her.  It was not, though, and she found herself upon it before she really had time to blink.  It was open all night, she knew that because of a man who had been sentenced to death.  He had been visited by his family in the middle of the night and had been killed the next day.  

She swallowed hard as she entered, feeling fear creep into her. She did not wish to watch John die, and would do whatever she could to help him escape.  

The guard who sat at the entrance to the prison looked up at her expectantly.  She threw her hood down and his eyes widened.  "Lady Tyler," he said, surprised, "What are you doing here, my Lady?"

"I wish to see Captain John Smith," she said firmly, the matter beyond arguing, at least in her mind. 

"You wish to see your captor?" The guard asked, his tone disbelieving.  "If you must, my Lady, but may I remind you he is a cursed wretch."

"You may remind me of that all you like, but I am not here to condemn him, as you are," she said, the accusing she was doing not beyond notice of the guard.  His jaw set but he let her pass without so much as another word.  She brushed past him and turned over her shoulder.  "And his cell?" she asked expectantly. 

"Number three, my Lady."

She followed the instructions without thanking him, for she though bitterly that a man like him deserved no thanks.  If he could see what he was doing, the crime he was committing by killing John, then he was evil and therefore deserved nothing from one Rose Tyler. 

He was sitting dejected in his cell when she found him, his knees drawn up and elbows slung across them, head bent forward as if against some strong wind that he was too tired to fight any more.  When he heard the rustling of her clothing, he looked up, and got to his feet as quickly as he could, his eyes wide and full.  He approached the bars where she stood and held his hand out for her. 

Careless of how dirty he might be in the cell, she brought his palm to her lips before holding his hand in both of hers.  His fingers curled over hers and he smiled widely at her.  "My Lady, it would appear we are on opposite ends of the cell this time."

She hung her head, and he squeezed her hand with as much power as he could, waiting for her to speak.  She did not, only felt overwhelmed by the emotions this man placed within her.  He seemed irritated by a fact she could not place and finally murmured, "Let me see your face, please."

She looked up at him, and he smiled dimly.  "There you are," he said softly.  She smiled back, a timid motion that made him want to crush her to himself and never let her go.

"I want to get you out of here," she said simply, as though the matter were beyond dispute.  His face fell.

"I do not believe you can, Lady Tyler.  And even if you could, where would we go?  What would we do?"

She stepped closer to the bars, holding his hand against her chest.  "Back to the _Tardis,"_ she said anxiously.  "Back to the ship, and we could travel so far away, John, we could go back, I could pack my things, and we could leave."

"You wish to do that?" He asked, shocked by her answer to his proposal and the manner in which she was suggesting it.  

"Yes," she said firmly, as though she had never been more sure of anything, and of course, she had not been.  He smiled then.

"What a lovely fantasy you draw, Rose," he said quietly, his eyes far away, clearly finding the idea pleasurable.  

Rose gripped his hand hard in hers and moved closer to him, wanting to be as close to him as possible.  "Please, John, promise me that if I can get you out of here, we'll run away."

He smiled softly at her, his eyes still sad.   "I promise," he whispered.   It appeared as though he did not believe she could do anything about their situation.  She thought otherwise, and that particular thought was reflected strongly in her eyes.  

"Lady Tyler, I think you should leave," the guard said suddenly.  

Rose turned to look at the guard, who was making her angrier and angrier by the moment.  She remembered that Jack had taught her a few things when she'd despised John, and licked her lips, remembering exactly what she could do to this man.  She approached him, flipping her hood down, and launched her fist upwards, shattering his nose in one motion that rendered him unconscious.  It surprised even her, and her jaw dropped before she turned to look at John, whose eyes were wide with his own mouth agape.

She let out a breathless laugh and bent down to retrieve the ring of keys from the man's belt.  It seemed the sound of the keys alone awakened the other prisoners, who  started calling out to her.  At the sound of her voice, they were stunned into silence.  Rose got to her feet and shushed them harshly, crossing quickly to John. 

"We might have time to go retrieve your things, with that speed," he said, laughing lightly.  She fumbled with the keys, barely noticing what he'd said.  "Rose," he said softly, catching her attention.  She looked up at him, her eyes full of fear and excitement. 

"We'll be alright," He said, "Calm down, it will be fine."

She took a deep breath and nodded before she tried key after key, finally finding the one that fit and took a shuddering sigh of relief, flinging the door open and then flinging herself into his arms.  He caught her and buried his nose in her hair, crushing her to himself.  

He released her and kissed her quickly, taking her by the hand and dragging her from the prison.  They ran through the street, grinning like loons, before they reached the Tyler home, her sheets tied from the window.  John laughed, and gazed at her with the gaze of a man who admired a woman as well as loved her. 

"You brilliant woman," he said, his voice near gushing.  

"Give me just a moment," she said, and with that began scaling back up the house.  John, having already had issues with people catching him where he wasn't supposed to be, set his back against the wall of the house next to the window.  

She was quick, taking out a carpet bag and throwing in any frock she could find that she would not need stays with, including most of her informal clothing.  Hairbrushes and every other necessity was thrown into the bag.  She double and triple checked to make sure she had everything before throwing the bag out the window.  She heard a grunt of exertion and giggled as she pulled on her delicate boots, the very epitome of grace, before climbing back down the side of the house.  

John glanced at her with a winded look, gripping her bag.  She took it back from him and took off running, him following close behind. 

They made it back to the ship and climbed aboard.  Jack and Rory were the first to notice.  They cheered and John thrust his fist in the air in a sign of victory.  

"Jack, you'd best set a course for Scotland, I believe we all have a wedding to attend," he grinned, and Rory blushed before Jack uttered an enthusiastic "Aye, Captain!" and ran to the ship's wheel.  

John brought Rose below deck to help her unpack, and looked at her expectantly.  "Welcome home, Rose."

She dropped her bag to the ground and cupped his cheeks in her hands.  "Welcome home, indeed."

FIN

**  
Epilogue: **

It was a year later when they deemed it safe enough for Rose to return to visit her parents.  John stayed on board, mostly out of fear, though he would never admit that in words.  She kissed him before she left, and he watched her go, thinking that perhaps there were a few things the two of them needed to sort out. 

She was dressed rather nicely, hairpins picked up when she and Amelia had shopped in France after she returned from her honeymoon with Rory.  That did not matter at the moment, though, because Amelia was still on the _Tardis_ with her husband.   

Rose was nearly mobbed when she stepped upon deck, and though John wished he could go after her, he knew he could not.  They would certainly both be imprisoned now, because of the life they were both leading, but he'd seen how happy Rose was and would not change it for the world around him.  

She shoved past people, saying shy hellos and allowing people to kiss her hands before she was able to make her way peacefully down the street.  Her heart was pounding wildly in her chest, and when she finally reached her home, she knocked with very little conviction. 

The sound of someone pounding down the stairs made her heart leap and she blinked when her mother flung the door open. 

"Rose!" She cried out, sounding incredibly surprised.  

"Mother," Rose said, "I want you to... To listen to me."

Her mother nodded anxiously, after not hearing from Rose for a year, was eager to listen to anything she had to say.  

"I want to come see you," Rose said softly, "I miss you, and Tony, and father, but if it's unsafe for John and I, we will not come.  We've discussed that we would visit during the winter months and stay aboard the _Tardis_ during the summer, if you would ensure our safety here in England."

Jackie stared at her daughter, her mouth slightly agape.  She clicked her jaw and nodded slowly.  "I'm sure your father and I will work something out.  Come in."

Rose stepped forward and embraced her mother, and after a moment of surprise, Jackie returned it, relieved that her daughter was safe.  There had been no word. 

They made the arrangements, and when Rose finally left the Tyler home just before nightfall, she felt light and happy, ready to return to John and the crew.  

When she arrived on deck, Amelia was rounding up all the men to get a meal before setting off.  Rose made her way straight to John, who was pacing and looking incredibly nervous.  He took her by the hands and pressed kisses to both her hands.  

"They agreed," Rose said, beaming, "We can return in the winter."

John smiled at her, and how happy she was. "Good," he said, relieved.  "Because I have something to ask you."

"Yes?" She stepped forward, closer to him, searching his eyes carefully. 

"I want to marry you," he said softly, "And I want to marry you here, where your parents can be a part of it."

Her grin, if possible, grew wider.  "Yes," she said softly, and wrapped her arms around his neck, kissing him soundly.  "Yes."

He picked her up and swung her about the deck before Amelia bellowed for them to come down with the rest of the crew.  John was happy to oblige, because he was the happiest he'd ever been, but once he was married to one Rose Tyler, he would be one thousand times happier.


End file.
